As he slid his thumb upon my slick and thin glass surface, he came to the surreal realization that all the dozens of dancing boxes on my skin were algorithmic traces of all the times his thumbs had been placed in all these spaces before. There was a pattern there, if he cared to recognize it, all too familiar but somehow only surface deep. Inside these tiny dozen, dancing boxes were reflections of all the man had ever wished to see and to be, keeping him locked in and looking into his snazzy pocket sized IPhone 83.
Ryan, Carolyn & I were thinking it would be fun for us to have some drinks Thur. night or tonight. You should call me from the payphone. ------> Please call even if it's to say you can't make it. We just think it'd be fun. Luv Always, Amy & Carolyn I love you son! MOM P.S. Shakespeare & Ryan Rule!
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