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The Guitarist #7

Vince walked into the kitchen. Carla was making dinner.

“Something smells good.” he said.

“Shrimp alfredo.” Carla said.

Vince walked up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck.

“I missed you, too!” she said, chuckling. “How was practice?”

“Really good! Things are starting to come together. Jared was late again, though.” Vince answered.

“You can’t blame him, though. You know what drugs do to people.”

“He needs to get off of them. He’s gonna kill himself.” Vince said.

“You’ve just got to let him deal with it in his own way. How was work?” Carla asked.

“I helped Mrs. Heffernan with her sink today. Then, she made me lunch. You really need to get her recipe for cornbread. I’m not saying yours is bad, but…” Vince said, grinning.

Carla laughed and socked him in the arm.

“She wants to know when you’re going to have some babies for her to babysit.” Vince said, still smiling.

“Did she? Well, you can tell her in about 9 months.” Carla said.

Vince almost choked on his water.

“What?”

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