I have always been a size extra small. It defined me.
Like having hazel eyes, dirty blonde hair, and hands that never quite fit the piano keys. “I’m extra small.” Unchangeable. A fixture. A facet of my being.
The best one. Extra small.
What’s smaller than small? (As Outkast would say: what’s cooler than being cool?)
Like the top prize. Nothing beats zero.
Of…
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5 A.M. Run Club — Chapter 4 of Celery Juice, Clickbait and Control
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