Thursday, 14 April 2011

Seventy Nine

What was it, thought Mack as he stared up at the weary, imposing portrait on the wall, that his father used to say? He stared at it for a few moments more, hoping to soak up the wisdom that his father seemed to exude and then remembered that his father never said a word. He communicated in grunts and disapproving glances.

"Good enough wisdom for me," said Mack.

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