It’s a perfect lazy Sunday. He made French toast from scratch and after gorging ourselves I took care of the dishes. While he caught up on his news shows, I caught up on my blogs. He comes to visit me and finds me teary-eyed in front of the computer. “What’s wrong?” he asks. I allow a hundred lame excuses from “you didn’t kiss me Good Morning” to “oh, just allergies” to fly fleetingly through my mind before admitting “I just read a sad story in one of my favourite blogs.”

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