Sunday, March 13, 2011


The wallpaper is old, the paint on the ceiling is too. The curtains are filled with well-settled dust. Twilight is slowly setting outside as a pot coffee brews silently. The day is grey and the sky is too. The only sound in the room is the whirring of the filth-laden ceiling fan. In the ancient dinning room, the couple begins their supper - pancakes and ice cream with maple syrup and a side of stewed strawberries. If this was your last meal, you would eat well too. The coffee maker clicks of with startling alacrity.

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