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The Man's Ruts
The man didn't seem to work, but these days work is such an ambiguous word. He spent time reading, if that can be considered work, though his eyes never rested on the pages for long. The woman from building B came back with her face hanging below her knees. She undid the buttons of her shirt, pulled a drink from the fridge, and collapsed on the sofa. They compared their ruts and thought the others didn't look so bad. That's what I thought they were thinking. You see, my eyes are windows too. And light travels differently through them. Some things grow, others shrink.