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Pity Party

Last week, I was cheerfully walking Rose, and was stopped in my tracks by a sign on the locked up gate of my beloved car mechanic. RELOCATING. CALL FOR DETAILS.  My heart sank. The garage, suddenly h0llowed out, had been a family operation for decades. Everyone loved Norm and his two sons. Living in such close proximity to a trusted mechanic was one of the most comforting pleasures of the neighborhood. I’ve spoken to Norm twice in the last few days. And he assures me they will relocate, but won’t tell me when or where. I offered to help them move. I’m in mourning.

Street Art by Myth


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