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These Days, (I seem to think a lot about the things that I forgot to do)

@drhanniballecter

The gaps in Garrett Jacob Hobbs’s form draw his eye.  Phone number, no address.  Oh, you overdid it, my man, he thinks, too damn neat.  A neat and tidy sonofabitch— and you knew it, didn’t you?  He asks the woman at the desk to sign off on the files as he slips the form back into it’s folder and tucks it under his arm.  The phone number sticks blue to the back of his eyelids.