Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Mrs. Kerchif and her son, with the latter reading the paper and the former wondering what might be contained within the paper being read

Mrs. Kerchif enters her son’s room. He is sitting on a couch reading the paper. When Mrs. Kerchif sees this she lets out a deep sigh. The son looks up.


The mother smiles. She loves when her son speaks to her. “So you found the paper father left?”

The son shakes the paper.

“Well I was just making sure.” She waits briefly for a response, and then turns and leaves the room.

Mrs. Kerchif is now standing outside of her son’s room. She is thinking about all of the things that her son might be reading about. She lets out another deep sigh.



“Why are you standing outside of my room?”

“Oh, I’m not dear.”

The son doesn’t reply, but Mrs. Kerchif can hear the crumpling of paper. Then she hears his footsteps. Mrs. Kerchif’s son walks out of his room and past his mother. He doesn’t look at her as he passes, but she is staring hard at him. “Where are you going?” she gasps. He doesn’t reply to this either, but instead hurries down the hallway. Moments later Mrs. Kerchif hears the front door open and then almost immediately slam shut. She smiles, then enters her son’s room. She walks over to the crumpled paper on the floor. Picking up pieces at random, she skims over the paper’s contents. Having sufficiently perused the paper, Mrs. Kerchif leaves her son’s room. She goes to her chair near the front door and sits down. She will wait here for her son to return.

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