A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Sixty-Nine

This morning, Perry and his son came out to take possession of the car.  I made it clear that I wanted to be left alone, staying away from everyone, hiding out on my own, but Perry insisted on finding me.  After all the things he has said and done of late, I didn't have any desire to interact with him.  I tried to stay away and made the choice to not say anything.  I didn't, in truth, trust myself to not say something unkind, and it wasn't worth it.  I said nothing.  His response was to tell me, "go to Hell."  I didn't even respond when he said that.  I am not sure if I am glad about that, but I know it is for the best.

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