“It’s a combination of factors,” you said and I turned away because I knew it for a fact that what was coming was a series of well structured statements most of which would turn out to be untrue. Not lies though. I never assumed you would lie. I began to admire the clothes on the drying rack instead, pairs of mismatched socks and tired, overused T-shirts now briefly smelling of peach, that it never was. I doubted you were aware of the almost complete lack of truth in what you were saying and kept wondering if I can ever cross the street again to pick up my shopping without stopping halfway, replaying that conversation in my mind that I wasn’t really part of. I’ve always been a good listener and a believer of intended meaning.
“Can you pick up that clothes peg, please,” was the next thing I heard, much later, you were pointing at the floor.
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