Duke Miller, exceptional as always.
“Would you like another drink?”
“You don’t seem very happy right now.”
“Parties…I’ve never liked them.”
The music died and there was only the sound of insects and low voices. The full moon winked in the clouds beneath the apathetic stars.
“When I was a teenager a girl invited me to her birthday party. Her name was Francine. She wasn’t very popular. No friends to speak of. You know the type I’m sure. She was tall and boyish, gangling with thin arms and big feet. And I had befriended her because she liked to run. She wasn’t fast or anything, she just liked to run in the countryside, across the fields and up the dirt trails above our little town. We would take our dogs and run in the evening as the sun slowly disappeared in the trees. We always said we were running…
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