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A click sounded as the lock to their apartment turned and the curly head had his back turned to the door before examining the apartment and outdoor deck. Why was the table set? Abby stood there on the deck, not knowing what to do - a feeling she rarely felt. Her eye caught the cars on the valleys of highways below, humming like bees on bright flowers. They were tidy folk, people said. Abby stepped into their living room and brought a wedged heel over baby toys plopped conspicuously on the carpet. The curly head turned. He raised an eyebrow. "Dinner outside?" He said. Abby looked away and shrugged a little. "The baby can eat with us," she added, bringing her eyes back to his - briefly. There was a silence as he slung off his pack. There could be nothing she could possibly want. She had always been the smarter one. He noticed something orange peeking out near the sofa - on top he spied a stack of neatly folded clothes. There was a tiny clench behind his eyes that he felt for a second. The wind blew softly outside and he glanced at his wife calmly standing in the chaotic apartment, in a grey skirt and low heels that only she could pull off. Daryll walked over to the screen door and pulled it open for her and both stepped out onto the porch deck. As they stood behind the chairs they caught each other's eyes - hers were faded crystal blue, his brown and rusty. Daryll did not register the decorum. Her eyes wandered over his for a few seconds. It was there in those moments of waiting that they both felt a silence - the great IT, what they refused to talk about, to discuss, IT - IT was over. In fact they knew IT had ended long ago. IT formalized on papers that sat at the bottom of their drawers. IT's words spoke louder than the voices that were never raised in defense, that never sparred. IT hadn't crumbled. IT hadn't existed, resolved Daryll, as he scooched himself into his chair. 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