Marek: a fractured restrospective

flashback: “Why you angry me?” I asked him on the first night he was back.

I was in my chair at the desk. He was sitting on the bed, legs spread and hands folded, propping up his chin. He wasn’t looking at me. He still had his coat and cap on, as if he wasn’t sure he was staying, or that I’d let him.

I did let him think about his answer. I wanted to know why he’d Register here. Choose a monthly, yearly, or lifetime membership.

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