he sat across the table from me... in the dim of morning, sipping water out of a cup and leafing through the paper. it was dawn, barely and so still that you could make out the rattle of ice cubes- a rhythmic mingling with birds outside- strung together by the parenthetical turning of pages. i love this time of morning he said. i like to sit here- just to listen and watch the light changing on the trees. in that moment i could have been him and he could have been me. and then she walked in... her steps breaking the glassy surface of our lake and flipped on the lights. how can you read in the dark she said. and it was over.
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