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Monday, October 4, 2010

Dear John

A quiet evening is before me. Ryan Adams gently paints a picture; a soft melody that is comforting to my senses. His familiar lyrics and guitar strum creates a sense of home on this brisk, Seattle evening. Cool air is entering through an open window. The soft white glow of my computer screen is grazing the edges of the clutter of my desktop.

I quickly tidy up it's surface for less distraction.

Dear John fills the favorite Ryan Adams song. I crank the volume to maximum, allowing the piano notes to swarm around me.

I sway in the air. Close my eyes and pretend I am somewhere new. Perhaps with a partner who would pull me close and carry me rhythmically along the wooden floor. I let the music move me in a saunter across the room. Alone.

My knee-high leather boots tossed aside.

I feel sexy against the melody. The lights of Seattle twinkling back through the window.

Where else could I be in this perfect moment?

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