Mocha Ice Pops

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I tried to do laundry on Tuesday, but I ate sliders and listened to records instead. I tried to help Elliot not hear fireworks by blaring music, but he couldn’t ignore them no matter how loudly I blared Otis Redding’s romance tunes. I tried out a new dance move in front of the mirror, but it looked way cooler in my head, and now I think I should probably keep dancing to myself, in my apartment, when home alone, or just stick to the slow-dancing thing. . . .

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