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untitled narrative of what's behind the door
I'm not sure what this is... but maybe it's complete in itself, or maybe i need to try building something bigger from it.
"Aren't you going in to the other room?" she mumbles softly with a hint of depression.
"I want to be in here with you" Randy replies dumbly, spending one more sylable on "you" than it is necessary.
There's silence humming louder than the tv commercials can disguise
There are footsteps and then another's corresponding...
Sounds of clanking dishes and cleaning.
Smells of dinner ... She's preparing for her husband, Randy, who will predictably, without a doubt love whatever it is she chose to stuff his stomach with this evening and for her son, Jonathan, who can't fork over one more 'white' lie without falling to his knees, confessing whatever it is his mother appears to be doing wrong this evening.
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