(despondency)
I just found out that the gym's closing in September. They've run out of money. Very wisely, I had paid a full year in advance.
There is little chance that I'll be getting a refund. None.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What made this gym perfect was proximity, and price.
I'll be getting fat again soon. The pub is still swimming in patrons.
Money talks, they say. But all it ever said to me was "Goodbye."
- Cary Grant, None But the Lonely Heart
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