saturday afternoon he sat on the back stoop. she walked into the garage and pulled out an old wine crate. in the sun she unraveled the hose and began to wash the cobwebs out of the corners of a wooden shell.
in the mist of his hang over he looked at the situation and without thought very matter of factly said..."you have a wet box."
she very matter of factly replied, "i sure do..."
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1 comment:
god now you're starting to sound like me.
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