Sunday Six

Six sentences for Sunday, March 16:

Your mother kept the house, and for the rest of July and August there was always a small crowd of trucks – carpenters, painters – parked in front of your house, always the sound of buzzing and hammering coming from inside. I peered through our curtains, speculating, making up stories to report back to you.

Plumber’s van parked out front 3rd day in a row, I wrote. Possibly CIA surveillance? I felt this was preferable to the real news I could have given you from home. Otherwise, I would’ve had to tell you that I spent most of my time reading everything the library had on code breaking, which wasn’t much, that watching reruns of Get Smart and The Avengers without you next to me on the couch to roll your eyes at Steed wasn’t nearly as much fun.

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