THINK OF HOME

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The walk back feels even shorter.

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"Dad," you start, "why does he..." You stop, unsure of what you mean to ask.

"...I know he's lyin'. About Antony not bein' home."

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The shoemaker slows to a stop in the beaten path, and sighs.

He opens his briefcase, and takes out a pair of shoes.

He sounded angry, almost. You take the pair immediately. He made you promise. You promised.

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You opt for silence the rest of the walk.

It's almost time for school, anyway.

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