Final word count for Saturday: 12,063.
Excerpt of the day:
“I think they were in a hurry this morning,” he said. “Still figuring things out, you know? I suspect they’ll open another lane when they’re satisfied that everyone’s under control.” He pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured two glasses, setting them on the marble island in the middle of the kitchen, then walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Naomi!” he called. “Come set the table!”
“Coming,” came a faint reply from behind the closed door upstairs. It was a mystery to Bill why she hid in her room every second that she wasn’t required to be outside of it, but some of his coworkers who also had teenage daughters had said that theirs all did the same thing. One of those phases, he thought. I suppose it’s better than the terrible twos.
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