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Beachfront Misery

After a few good days…

C (whispering in the dark at bedtime): Daddy, I’m never going to live some place without you there, too.

Physically tired, Daddy squeezes her, imagining an older, Sharapova-esque version spending a healthy fraction of her Wimbledon prize money to add a comfortable wing onto an already spacious beachfront mansion, realizing an oft-expressed desire to keep close.

C: Because I love you so much.

After a subsequent few, not-so-good days…

C (whispering in the dark at bedtime): Daddy, I don’t ever want to live anywhere without you there, Daddy.

Emotionally drained, Daddy squeezes her, imagining an older, Kathy Bates-like version placing a four-by-four block of wood between a sleeping Daddy’s ankles, bringing a sledge hammer down heavily, first one way and then the other, realizing an oft-expressed desire to keep close.

C: Because I love you so much.

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