A month before the book he was writing was completed, the tip of his nose itched unbearably. Previous bouts of itching he could endure, but today’s was relentless.
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Maybe falling off the wagon isn’t so smart. Best to stay safe. Retreat to the sofa, reach for the phone, resume scrolling. Let the algorithm be my guide.
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Beneath smoke now blackening the ceiling, Alan was sitting peacefully, chatting once more with his three new best friends, Snap, Crackle, and Pop.
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If an English person were asked where our Midwest was, they’d know the person who asked was probably American.
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If you have ever bought a transit ticket in a European city, you know the particular humiliation of it.
