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A woman and her curly reddish-brown dog seen from behind, sitting close together on the bare floor of an almost empty room at dusk; an open door spills warm golden sunset light across the floorboards toward them and a single empty chair stands to one side — soft watercolor in dusty plum, terracotta, and gold

Born Sinner

Cancer gathers a room around the dying. Addiction dies alone. On installed shame, addiction as adaptation — and the coincidence that ended my gambling.