Drift
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I could leave right now and I would be good and gone.
    For every snowflake blown sideways another blows
sideways. Well, not really, but every snowflake has to fall
    or get treed. There is a reason I don’t want to never
come back, what is it? There’s more snow. There’s
    an old saying. There’s a rabbit on the shoveled walk.
I have a neighbor could do without him. And he him, also.