"And I don't know how it got there," she said. "And I do wonder how you are."
The stairs outside her door were quiet, but she knew people were home. They must be asleep by now, she thought. They must be quietly sleeping, or if not sleeping, reading, or if not reading, thinking. She looked to the window where she watched him stand at the curb - in the fog, in the earliest of mornings, in the latest of nights, at the height of a summer. They would sit at that window, unwinding it until its spine caught the wind and the smoke softened its torso.
It always seems like it must have been cold then, but it wasn't.
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True story.
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The stairs outside her door were quiet, but she knew people were home. They must be asleep by now, she thought. They must be quietly sleeping, or if not sleeping, reading, or if not reading, thinking. She looked to the window where she watched him stand at the curb - in the fog, in the earliest of mornings, in the latest of nights, at the height of a summer. They would sit at that window, unwinding it until its spine caught the wind and the smoke softened its torso.
It always seems like it must have been cold then, but it wasn't.
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