We Get Along

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I told her I didn’t think there was anymore salsa, and she said “no, I’m pretty sure there is.” I don’t really like it when she takes that tone with me, but whatever, I’m just happy she found a job already. She pours herself another glass of pinot noir, and… okay, there goes the bottle. “Hunny, I thought we were saving the wine for dinner; you know, the one you were supposed to make.” At this point I heard a glass break which I chalk up to clumsy dishes being done. She turns slowly to look at me which I think is so endearing, it’s kind of like the way her father used to look at her… wait a minute, I don’t think her father was a very nice man.

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