![]() ![]() Even if there weren’t a gnome dressed in my old lacrosse goggles and a cherry-red thong donated by one of my roommates staring out the window, it wouldn’t take a stranger long to realize a bunch of UNS athletes live here. My suitcase bumps against the wooden stoop as I haul it along behind me up to the front door. ![]() “It’s good to be back,” I mutter as I charge through the little patch of dirt and struggling weeds we call a yard. His name is CJ Junior, and my whole face splits into a grin as I raise two fingers to give him a salute. ![]() My Uber driver takes off up the darkening street, and I turn to watch the car round the corner before looking back at the gnome. I pause in the middle of the sidewalk, the clatter of my suitcase wheels on the pavement coming to an abrupt stop. There’s a gnome wearing a thong and a pair of lacrosse goggles in our front window. ![]()
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