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Good day’s work

April 12, 2012

She had drawn his name in the places downtown where most people would never think to look. She didn’t care, much, if he ever noticed; it just pleased her to know his name was out there, exposed, wearing away ink molecule by ink molecule as rain fell and wind rushed by.

How did your day go? he asked when she got home, but it was clear he didn’t care to hear the answer.

Fine, she said, rubbing her fingertips against her thumbs as if she could feel the stains left behind by her good day’s work.

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