She still looked good.I suppose it was inevitable.I was working at home one day; Joanne had got the baby to sleep.Daniel was at school.Joanne came int... the study where I was working and began fusing about.She mumbled something.“What was that, Joanne?”“Nothing.”“You said something, Joanne.”“I said; ‘You a naughty boy’!”I stared at her; we’d never spoken of our past. It was an unspoken pact, and she’d just broken it.She stood in the center of the room, looking at me defiantly, angrily, hands on. I simply slip though the Stream, the small reality what lurks behind your mirror. When going through the Stream, I hear what one says on the other side and find the looking glass. Most people don’t realize how much can be heard when they think they are alone. Of course one may find the odd person watching a bad porno at 2 am or a drunken roll in the sac, but those are casually ignored. I seek something more. Tonight, I slip through the Stream, finding nothing of interest. A happy couple. More

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