5.23.2013

322 of 365

He had taken to sitting on one side of the couch and she on the other. The impressions of their respective elbows long ago imprinted on the furniture's arms, the upholstery thinning, the foam padding disintegrating with each passing primetime evening, and both now sentimentally covered with throw pillows. But after forty years together, his side of the couch was empty, and she would never occupy her side again.

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