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After receiving an injection of cortisone into a joint on the top of my foot, which caused squishiness and chill, in the morning, I moved away from Seattle in the afternoon. I did not cry. I cried for months at the thought of it but didn't during the reality of it. Deus ex machina did not arrive. Or, hasn't yet. And I'm out of things to say right now. There's absolutely nothing. Intermediate life. I'm going to start writing about it.
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