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It was one of those summer afternoons that seemed to go on forever. The heat filled the small room and pushed us oozing into our seats. When I looked over, John was fiddling with his phone. "Anything good?" I drawled. He grunted. "Good to hear. Keep me posted." I said. The heat and silence ballooned oppressively. I slumped further on the couch and stared hazily at the patterns in the cracks in the ceiling. "Can I get your opinion on something?" I finally asked. "Just until until Noah gets here, I know we've gotta go soon." He flipped his phone down into his lap and looked at me. "Bout what?" "It's a story I've been thinking about. Haven't written it down yet. Too much effort." "That's a mood. Let's hear it." "Okay, cool, will you tell me if you agree afterward? Maybe I'll write it down after all." He didn't respond, but I was already deep in thought. The scrap of a