a home don’t you

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a home don’t you

“You have a home don’t you, I mean a house? Where?”

And he replied “yes”, smiling, a little proud perhaps, and told her where, and then went on about how he and his wife renovated it four years ago and that it was time to paint the living room again but they didn’t seem to find the time and she zoned out but not for long and added “bet it’s nice” and “didn’t I hear you mention a hut the other day?” and he continued answering this time about how he had inherited it and that it was wonderful and all the wonderful things they were able to do outside and “when was the last time you had to worry about not be able to pay rent?” only a drink too drunk to not be able to censor herself before it slipped past her lips and how his face turned embarrassed but she has this look when she looks at someone waiting for an answer and he tried he really did try and made a proper ass of himself in the process and “oh you can’t remember, bet it’s nice?”

“So do you like living in” and she couldn’t not notice how he didn’t know or remember the name of where she lived and the look on his face as if he just realized that asking someone who lived in that part of town whether or not they liked it was perhaps not a subject for a work party chatter so she decided to nod and utter a longish consonant and not get into how living in her home resembled dead more than living and how it didn’t have much to do with geography and save him by turning it around: “You have a home don’t you, I mean a house?”

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