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Expectations

February 7, 2017

He shook the rain off his coat and settled himself across the table at their bar, chosen for its unpopularity—neither party in town had adopted it.

She had already ordered bottles of cheap beer, and she was half into her own, which meant she squeezed his hand across the table sooner than he expected. How are you doing?

I may not make it, he answered. Everything is so empty there, and no one understands the light switches.

She tilted her head. Starting a new job is always hard, she replied, but shouldn’t you expect more?

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