Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Forty-Four
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Quiet.
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I can’t find the lighter for the candles. I’m sure it’s in her bedroom.
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One cup of coffee together staring out over the trees. The sun is coming up between that narrow V of the valley. Purple and pink and blue under the thin gray strip of fog.
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I count twelve hot air balloons dotting the horizon.
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Sundays.
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She has so much poise.
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I tell him it was a frustrating day today because I made too many mistakes for my liking. He tells me that mistakes are good. He is not wrong.
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There is still much to do.
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The 10-year-old breaks it all down, tells his bigger brother that it’s time to get over it. We are laughing. From the mouths of babes.
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Will I make it to 9 o’clock?