i wrote to tobin to say hello and that my departure is getting near and everything is coming apart, mostly in a good way i think but i don’t know anything anymore.
she was — she reported — pinching ticks from her legs with tissues following a hairy romp through the spring fields of lincoln, flushing them away and marveling at her mother, who — she recalled — used to crush them between bare thumb and nail.
does anyone know anything? she wrote back.
because i also don’t know anything.
like i don’t even know that i hate ticks, per se.
they’re just trying to get by.
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