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May 9, 2007
Jimbo pulled open the door and dropped his bag by the coat rack. “God, what a day,” he said and shrugged off his blazer. He sat on a chair by the hearth and kicked off his leather shoes, placing each underneath. Alone again, another night of chips, hummus and beer. His Yorkie sniffed at his black socks. “Hey, boy,” Jimbo said, scruffing the dog’s long hair. The dog barked and ran to the kitchen, Jimbo followed and cracked open the fridge. He wished someone would shop for him. He wished someone would reach around his shoulder and embrace him, laugh.