The Newsman Sang His Same Song

As I left the family store tonight, I stood on the sidewalk talking with Anya about a disk full of images for the website. I work on the store’s website. The toughest art is getting good images of merchandise from manufacturers because artists and artisans are suspicious, for which we can’t really blame them. This disk, then, would be a boon to me. It was in a bag in Corinne’s car at Anya’s house. I said I’d stop by and pick it up. Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting in my living room wearing pajamas when I remembered. Corinne is so used to this she wasn’t even surprised when I called and said I’d forgotten before I even crossed the street.

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