While Gary B.B. Coleman was singing about the sky crying, I was inside staring vacantly at my armoire, wondering what the fuck I was going to wear. A glass of red was in my right hand, to calm my nerves, but so far it hadn't done anything, other than make me feel a little tipsy. I hadn't eaten much at all that day, aside from the odd nibble of some seaweed crackers and a few cherries.
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