Good boy. Now, come on. We have eggs. Let me cook you an omelette.
She pulled a soggy box out of the press, opened it and at once turned up her nose.
Maybe we’ll skip the eggs, she said, and took a good look around the kitchen as though she was convinced a second press, one with proper eggs and other food, was hiding from her. Her scan complete, she shook her head sadly, threw up her arms and yelled, What a dump! As fast again, she jerked her head towards the stereo, her face lighting up at what was coming out of it.
And off she went. De-de doo-duh. De-de doo-duh. Clicking her fingers.
from Ithaca by Alan McMonagle (2017). Very Highly Recommended.
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