You have joined the fleet of the ephemeral, and I have
decided not to think of you. Save for the brief moments in the wake of delayed
buses, the interval between thought and sleep when I see your face across me
like an apparition; a dream. 
All day I am a dead man walking, in this plastic suburbia where nothing means anything anymore. Where people knock and run, before I
could even open the door. 
![run ons and [fragments]](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7yaLURMNP721pT-0kH5nLxweTOGf1rW_REsBoqJmbXTwMtREaAORYPW1PVRSJtXCXriVEIsaj3TPfOg9rNWQmbCmeBJ3f8W5yJ9NhP0vmhgHGme10EiOyvn0VWxAdqmNMVdFDeuigVqg/s1600/y.jpg) 
 
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