This is a story

by the writer about the writer for the writer. It’s a simple clean story that begins right now and has no ending.

It takes place at the table next to the cracked open window. On the table is a half eaten yogurt cup, a bag of tortilla chips, a calendar, a black pen, a tea caddy from Holland, a basket filled with art supplies and post cards, a pink box, some bananas, a picture of us in a frame on our wedding day, hair.

There are two cats. One eating out of a red dish. one sleeping at the foot of the bed.

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