The house throbs with people, girls giggling in our bedroom as they drop cigarettes on the floor and re-tease their hair; muscle-bound football players cruise the halls, squat awkwardly on Mother's Queen Anne chairs as they pop open beers.
So you beat the worst team in the league. Big deal, call the TV crews.
Brad hesitated, peering at the grid of spun sugar that jutted from his loganberry parfait.
“My father’s favorite saying was, ‘Are you alright?’ and ‘Are you playing with a full deck?’” recalled Darren.
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