Sunday

a creeper was stirring


after the party. jim checks on a sleeping dylan and tucks the covers over her gently.

dylan, stirring:  hi, dad.
jim, whispering:  hi, dylan.
dylan:  who showed up?
jim:  i'll tell you in the morning
dylan, mischievously:  i know... mrs. reynolds!
jim, surprised:  were you creeping?
dylan:  yes.
jim:  goodnight, dylan
dylan:  good night, dad.




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