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scarlet's been gone since the lockdown started.
we leave her space
(for the most part)
laundry.
dried crisp.
letters, unopened for months.
i wrote her a card on the opening night of one of her shows, back before lockdown.
it fell behind this rack.
undisturbed.
by the time she comes back to collect her things, i'll be gone.
our wifi.
(thank god it works.)
my clothes. to be donated
once the shops open.
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