Smore pointed at the window and exclaimed, “I like it here, there are so many little birds. They go cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo!”
Smore was talking about the pigeons that frequented a nearby plaza. The flock sometimes took off into the air simultaneously, resulting in a magnificent, eye-catching spectacle.
Mark spent his time after dinner watching TV with Smore on his lap. Arianne seized the chance to ask, “So, what time are you going back?”
He turned toward her, displeasure shadowing his frown. “You want me to go already? Well, I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’ve asked Mary to pack some of my clothes and put them here. From now on, this is where I live.”
Arianne had long expected him to do that. “I’m being serious here, Mark. You gotta go back there from time to time, ya’ know. Wouldn’t want a certain someone to pick a fight with me over this.”
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