fragments linger
my job at the paper
when there still were papers
my editor friends with an agent
who would surely like my novel
which I had forgotten
what was the name of my novel
several gray stone apartment buildings
on the edge of a cliff above the city
on a bay wrapped around by mountains
my motorcycle repaired in a nearby alley
they must be reserved for the rich
I would like to go inside
there is a party
the walls are glass
the view is stunning
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