Abigail caught me two weeks ago, in Wal-Mart parking lot. I caught a brief reflection of myself as we walked by a parked car. I had, as they call it in the romance novels, a lingering glance at someone. A romantic glance? Did you throw up, just a little bit, in the back of your throat. She said, Daddy you are looking at yourself.
A glance is a glance. A glance will never make a difference. A glance will never tell the truth. At a glance I saw what I wanted to see. The high parts. The mountain peaks. I was embarrassed when Abby caught me. I need to either take a longer look, or stop looking. Bottom line. You too.
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