I was standing there at my grill, the grill on my deck, my deck off the back of my house, I looked to the right over my yard at my newly constructed shed and then back at my grill. On the grill, a whole package of all beef hot dogs being cooked slowing, too many dogs for the amount of people around.
I thought of how delicately my easy life passes from day to day. I was sure someone, in some back yard, in some corner of New Orleans had been doing something similar a little over a week ago.
I did my best to stop thinking after that
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