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July 27, 2019
Day #820. My father brought me a dress today. My favorite color. Red. "It's your 40th birthday." He looked like he was crying. We "had" breakfast over 4 turn-backs. Passengers are respectful today. No one tried to eavesdrop or take photos. Kept their distance. I've reached a level of sadness and resignation wherein I'm now planning months ahead in the context of me staying in this train. I ask Dad how he is, and he answers with his usual "Oh you know, getting by. We miss you. Have you thought about what we discussed? Barging through the glass windows?"