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Brautigan

Richard peered around the corner at me and stood silently watching. I was spraweled out on the couch, curled in a blanket with my stuffed dog named Junket. Junket was my mothers toy as a child and was then passed to me. By that time she had already been careworn and now her head was barely attached. I was intently watching Pooh Grand Adventure.

I paid no attention to my imaginary companion as I reached for a tissue.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Rufus meowed up at him in a friendly greeting and rubbed against his legs. He smiled quietly at the cat and returned his attention to me. I blew my nose and wiped my eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked again.

“Celebrating,” I answered through my tears.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s my birthday,” I answered.

“Seems an odd way to celebrate your birthday,” he answered amused.

“Well, I’m odd,” I said.

Richard shrugged and retired to the den where I heard his typewriter clicking away.

 

Authors Note: Today is not really my birthday. This is just a story.

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