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poor little chime ball

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-eight years and a million words

When I was a baby, someone bought a chime ball for my distraction. Amazingly, it stayed at the house on Woodside until I was an adult and for some reason I decided to pick it up. I've had it ever since.

Until the other night, when I left it at the side of the road.

poor little chime ball

But Mari felt blue about that and had me go back and pick it up the next morning. You've survived this round, chime ball.