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The Windmill

“Do you believe in poetic justice?” asked Michelle. Bob did not respond immediately. He had realized from earlier experiences debating with his bright wife that he better chew such philosophical questions before he spat out an answer. “Do you..?” Michelle persisted....

The Rain

He wasn’t entirely sure when the rain started. Must have been a good hour ago as he could hear the steadily increasing patter-patter in his sleep. Ron looked at the grandfather clock that still did sterling service – as all old things seemed to, he mused as he...