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Julie pushed the cushion aside and sank gratefully into the welcoming confines of the recliner. She held a glass of cab sav in one hand and a book in the other. This was her favourite time of day. She adored her children, but they could be exhausting on the best of days. She sipped her wine and closed her eyes, savouring the mellow warmth it induced. The sounds of birds outside the window was faint, like songs from another dimension; a place of peace and contentment; a place without war or hate; a place not drowned out by the gurgle of water in pipes or the urgency of unfinished manuscripts. A place where children actually sleep, she thought, wryly, when cries emerged from the baby monitor. “When will Mike be home? I’m so damn tired.


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Categories: Fiction Friday

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