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Christmas Melancholy
I feel it coming, and I hate it. I squirm and tap my fingers and check my mail too often. Poignantly and perversely, the mail I do get has increased importance, in direct proportion to my need. The need to
I feel it coming, and I hate it. I squirm and tap my fingers and check my mail too often. Poignantly and perversely, the mail I do get has increased importance, in direct proportion to my need. The need to