Looking For The Consolation Of An Vintage Flame: Solitude

But living in a hotel in downtown San Francisco didn’t sound bad to me.
After five years in San Francisco, I was ready to return to New York, where I hoped he would never find me.
I had barely spent any time in San Francisco before I moved there.
My father had met Marie when he was a college student from the Philippines, waiting tables in a San Francisco cafeteria on his summer break.
We rolled through the Sierras, then the Rockies, and I felt my old life receding, something new unspooling.

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