Seeing the mildewed-looking paper still sitting there, bruised and slightly forgotten, I take it out and set it in front of me. Once again, using the pen, I add to it. But not the tiny, neat writings I had carefully inscribed before. I scribble. Not once. Not twice. Not just a few times. But all over it. All over my handwriting.
And then, with a pleasant smile that is suitable upon the face of someone who has just realized something nice, I toss it away.
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