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every morning in palm springs

Every morning in Palm Springs, I’d get up before everyone else and sit outside on the warm cement driveway. I’d put on sunscreen and watch the neighbor's house across the street. The neighbor had young hair and an old face. He wore silver basketball shorts.

The first day, I watched him transport a painting. He asked me, "Are you going to the festival today?" I nodded. He said, "The Black Keys are playing. They're great. I watch them on the internet."

The second day, I watched him escort a young girl to her car. He waved to me. I waved back. He asked me, "Are you going to the festival today?" I nodded. He said, "The Strokes are playing. They're great. I watch them on the internet."

I spread out on the cement and watched the trees sway back and forth in the wind. I fell asleep for a little bit. When I woke, the car with the young girl had returned. He walked across the street and handed me a bottle of water. "Here,” he said. “It's going to be hot today."


I didn't stay for a third day.

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