Its nearly midnight on a Tuesday night that I find myself sitting alone in my one bedroom flat. Its cold, not unbearably so, but cold enough for me to notice it. So there I am, Miles Davis is playing quietly from my stereo in the other cornoer of the room and I'm sitting in front of an empty screen thinking about Cinderella.
"Cinderella?" Steve the Parrot says, "That old broad, why you thinking about her?"
I don't know. It must be me.
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