Mar 9, 2010


I had been at that breakfast table, years back, you see. I know how clean they keep it, how the cupboard, though never locked, always invites, and how the talk... well, I have forgotten the talk.

I have not gone back, will never go back there (I remember the slant of sun through the windows).

It's a clear thing to me, that table, weeks or years from now. I see her parents looming over breakfast, tomorrow, talking and not talking about her.

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