Voices on the cell phone.
“You can go home. Really.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, really. Go home. You get up at 5 in the morning. The Boy will be fine.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Go home.”
Nope. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Dulce et decorum.
But I might stretch out and nap a bit.
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