Joe stood at the door, the bell tones a distant ring in his mind. The key he knew wouldn’t fit in the lock as he wished it would, but tried it anyway. A list of his actions, an invisible bill he would not forget and her spoken limits, spilled like a smoke miasma over the entryway. Still, he kept standing there, waiting, wanting to hear the click of her high heeled shoes and the silky slide of satin fabric against her body.
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Wordle 754
The Bag Lady 