another interruption, about supper.

This is the view from the window in the room where we eat breakfast, lunch and supper.

Supper tonight was strange: A dish billed as Hamburger Abendblatt, and roasted vegetables. We were all tired, and ate in an unaccustomed and uncomfortable silence.

I don't care for the silence. You look out into the wide open space beyond the window while you think tighter and tighter thoughts in smaller and smaller circles and, finally, they all narrow to a point: something is wrong.

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