Nora Played Six Days of Recordings at Her Second Anniversary Dinner
The parking lot smelled of hot tar and french fry oil.
Chloe came out the side door with an iced latte in one hand.
“Oh, Nora!” she said.
Her voice went up at the end.
“You’re Julian’s wife.
I mean, of course you are.”
“He forgot his charger,” I said.
“He forgets everything,” Chloe said.
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