Hour 8: exchange rate

Hour 8: exchange rate
I have the compact yet ornate bookcase, the drab green soup pot, the maroon v-neck sweater in a Ziploc bag to try to save a smell.
I don’t have her laugh, his sparkle in his eye when he thinks of a joke, or the dusty red door to open.
Not a fair exchange, but you get no say in these transactions.

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