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February 27, 2007
He’s gone again. He slammed the hinging glass door in my face, a great whoomph of air in my eyes. I flipped him the bird as he punched in his destination. He barely looked up from the dial, receiver in his hand, sneered with glowering eyes and blew a kissy face at me with a slight wave of his pinky as the receiver clanked into the cradle and the phone booth shimmied in preparation for take off. “Bastard.” He winked. I folded my arms and leaned close to the glass, “I’m leaving you!” He made as though he couldn’t hear.