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February 14, 2010
Milt stuffed his writing for the day under his laptop in the form of four or five pieces of scrap paper. It would be enough for today. He used the phrase again earlier when he managed to get out again. His heart sank as as the level of his draft beer approached the bottom, thinking about how much better he'd feel in the dusty bar if he just had one more. The place smelled, and the waitresses tired uniforms consisting of maroon polo shirts tucked into black slacks reminded him of his own dead end job. This will be enough.