Thanks, Phoebe

It’s a Sunday twilight in a coming-together apartment in the middle of a middle-of-the-road town. Two young women are sitting at an oak dining room table drinking gin and orange juice ladled from a pink plastic bowl sitting between them.

“Ok, ok –let’s try it again,” one says to the other. “We almost had it nailed that time.”

“Yeah, we’re close, really terribly, terribly close,” her friend answers while reaching over and flipping on the repeat button.

The two sing along all the way to the end. “Let’s do it just one more time…”

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