I poured a glass of orange juice, poured a mug of coffee, and carried my plate to the dining room. Lisa’s friend was still on the couch, watching Spongebob and she smiled at me as I sat down to eat. On the table was the notebook from the previous night, its cover closed, and for a moment I felt everything was dark and hopeless as I stared at its blood smeared cover. Then, shrugging, I bent over my plate and began shoveling eggs into my mouth.
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