24 Mar 2022

Everything is tender in the park this morning and again this evening. The mist has settled over the soccer field, grass peeking up so green and so earnest. The body floats over puddles on the pavement and you are just air, fresh vapor.

A lime green brick wall frames a cream white door with red detailing, the number 57 stuck on the front of the door along with a handwritten note saying “Please leave all packages at the laundromat!!!”. A white mailbox hangs on the wall to the left, and the corner of a black trash can peeks out on the right.

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