And just like that, you’re 29. Your twenties came and went as quickly as every annoying middle-aged stranger with a Honda Pilot and a sexless marriage warned you they would. But you were never much for authority, much less those who assume it on the basis of age alone. You weren’t savoring shit and on July 8th, you tasted their bitter words. “You win, K…
© 2024 Dia Becker
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