pressed
against the kitchen
window.
she looks familiar
squished up against the pane.
she doesn't see me
sitting
at the table
drinking coffee and reading
the paper.
she's wide eyed
with her mouth open
as if she wants to tell me
something,
maybe to offer an apology
of some sort.
behind her
is a long line of women,
all with the same look
of regret and remorse.
i ignore them and turn
to the sports page.
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