He said a group of kites is called a mockery laughing at the way I chase my string through Central Park on our staycation. The little boy whose Spiderman kite resembles mine but fits in his tiny hands so that the string bounces off his lifeline and across the picnic blankets. We grabbed the sheets off our bed, soiled in soil, before laundry day. Speaking only in British accents like we could be other people.
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