I walked into the house. It was quiet. It meant he hadn’t come as yet. The corridor stretched endlessly before me. I wondered what to do while I waited for him. Ahead was the door leading to the large and cozy living-room. That’s where he and I sat, curled up on the sofa, listening to Smooth Jazz while sipping wine. I could wait in there. I could go into the kitchen and prepare something for us to eat. Or I could go upstairs and slip into something more comfortable.
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