The culmination of my first month at work happened through this:
The acceptance of a medium-sized envelope with some hard-earned stash placed carefully inside. I wanted to take the envelope home and tuck it inside the folder where I place all my valuable documents. On a sad note, though, they told me you're not supposed to take envelopes like that at home. It could've been a great addition to my Folder of Accomplishments and Almost-Accomplishments.
I want to say so many other things. But I've decided against it. Sometimes I lose the ability to tell stories about my life in simple terms. That happens to all of us, I guess. Or does it?
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