“Well, this is it.”

“This is home?”





“Thanks for driving.”

“Thanks for coming out.”

“No, thank you.”

“No, no, thank you.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou. I win. So there.”

“I am thanked.”


“Thoroughly thanked.”


“So. I guess I should go.”

“Good night then.”

“Good night.”

He gives a little half smile and a wave before slipping behind the wheel of his car. I open the door to my little apartment and let the cats out, then step out of my shoes as I cross the threshold, sprawl out on my bed and pluck the phone from my pocket. Speed dial 3.


“Hey you.”

“Hey you.”

“It’s me.”

“Is it?”

“It sure is.”

“Are you certain?”

“I couldn’t possibly be certainer.”

“Well I’m glad we got that cleared up.”

“I feel better already.”

“Good. That’s important.”

“What are you up to tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What about you?”



“No plans for anything. I’m home.”

“Home, huh?”

“I sure am.”

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Cynthia Lugo

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