I saw you today in the break room eating that 3 day old piece of chicken left in the fridge from the Friday potluck. I heard you talking about your affair with that married guy in the order department. He bought you a car, and now his wife knows about you. I envy your oblivion. I can't even laugh about your situation because it would make me feel guilty. Your fate as a woman shouldn't be summed up on these details. I wish I could connect with you on a level so you can see this. There are too many obstacles, my words would bounce around. Here's to refrigerated air, selling sweaters, and lovers who are like three day old communal leftovers.
It's not what you think it's what you believe. Patricia '96
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