Your credit card, my keyboard, I write my name in rust with every loud clack. You buy us both matching bikinis, or I do but with your money. I’m not sure it fits me, in size or style. We’re going to the beach for a week, so I stock up on batteries, dice and whiteboard markers. My whiteboard at home is as in poor shape as my keyboard, only it is more productive. Batteries though, are a habit I can’t kick. Dice I can do without, but why would I?
Your credit card is declined, and I’m relieved. The beach was sounding boring anyway.


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