In Memoriam

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We sold my car.

The one I drove in college, picked Ben up for our first date in, the one that housed the “chicken snowman” my sister made me.

It had a good run, but now it’s on to bigger and better things: crushed, melted, made into something new.

So long, Thyllin. May you enjoy never-ending fields of asphalt and drink deeply of the coolant you formerly leaked.

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