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Out of context: Reply #13822
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I looked at Mom's note, blotched with damp spots from melted ice cubes. A dismal and baroque scene. I'd just sat down on the sofa beside Dad when Ellen, the stalker of yore, scampered across the lawn, wearing a bright pink Gore-Tex pantsuit and shaking spruce needles off her purse.
"Just tell that pesky bitch to take a hike", Dad said.
I went to the front door and called, "Ellen, we saw you." Her head popped out from behind an azalea.
"Ellen, today is not the day for stalking. Dad's really depressed about something, and whatever you're up to, it's not the day."
"Oh. Okay. I'll come back tomorrow."
"Thanks, Ellen."