6/25/2023 0 Comments Warm up ve schwab“Two hundred ninety-seven,” he said at last, because it had all started there in the snow. He didn’t know how to choose the right number. “How long has it been?” she asked casually, as if they weren’t both counting. Jess turned the temperature down and came to him, resting her elbows on the kitchen counter between them. The words felt more solid the second time. Now her eyes brightened with a kind of guarded hope. She’d pleaded with him for weeks-months-to leave the house, before finally giving up. “Jesus, David,” she said, dropping the bags on the counter, “it’s like an oven in here.” He stood there until the coffee went cold, and he was still standing there when Jess came in, arms full of groceries. He wasn’t quite sure when he made it, somewhere between turning on the shower and stepping in, perhaps, or pouring the milk and adding the cereal, or maybe a dozen tiny decisions had added up like letters until they finally made a word, a phrase, a sentence.Įither way, he’d made the decision, and now he stood very still at the kitchen counter, holding his choice in his hands with his coffee, afraid that if he moved, his resolve would crumble. 293 days since he locked himself in the house that had been his and then theirs and was now his again.
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