(With thanks to this “Blog.”)
The sun was just “setting” when I arrived home. The smell of “bread” and the sound of “laughter” drifted across the field. Already, the stresses of the day seemed like a “distant memory.” I ran the last few yards, then rapped my fist against the “door” and stepped into the kitchen.
‘I’m home,’ I said, partly to myself and partly to “Susan.” She turned to look at me, a “smile” lighting up her “face.”
‘You were gone so long,’ she said, giving me a “hug.” ‘I was getting “worried.” Where were you?’
‘“Nowhere,”’ I said. ‘“Nowhere” at all.’ I glanced over her shoulder. ‘Are you “baking?”’
‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘I’m really “glad” you’re home.’
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