Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Ninety-Five
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Quiet.
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The sound of the coffeemaker percolating, a faint quacking sound in the distance, the crackle of the fire.
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I haven’t spoken to him in a while so he is my first call.
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It just seems like we’re all in a rough spot right now. I remind myself that life is cyclical. There is always an up after a down.
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The dough bangs against the side of the bowl as the hook whips it around. I resist the urge to stick a podcast in my ears. It’s good to be alone with your thoughts.
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Three bowls in the drawer. They still have milk in them. “What were you going to do when they started to smell?,” I ask. He shrugs his shoulders.
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It’s been too long since we’ve all been together for a holiday, and that makes me sad.
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Small bowl of leftover beef stew.
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Oysters and champagne.
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Stuffed. Everything a delight. Gratitudes.