She called me up and told me she’d be going out with her new boy Adrian.
“But I might be getting home late,” she told me, “and I don’t want to go to my mom’s house so late.
“So can I borrow your house key, and sleep on your couch? I’ll return it in the morning if I don’t have to use it.”
At 4 a.m., I heard a clink through the mail slot, my key in an envelope. I could have opened the door and seen her get into his car and drive away.
– K. Thor Jensen

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