by Pauline Masurel
Some transgressive thoughts range far beyond the boundaries. Some ideas are not acceptable in unmixed company. So she held her tongue in front of these friends and didn't dare to say how much she missed certain things. No more spraints of loose change on the dresser, no opaque rings wormed into the coffee table's shine. Neither droppings of toast crumbs on track to the bin nor slime of marmalade swiped casually on the drainer. All his trails had gone cold. But her friends bought her drinks and offered congratulations. Finally she'd done it. After all these years. Hadn't they always told her how much happier she would be?
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