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70 WATCHING THEM GO These days it’s a perpetual party at the twilit moment when the guests start leaving, first the few acquaintances, protesting how they’d love to stay, so sorry, thanks. The room is thinned but still the party sparkles, till a loved one makes excuses, then another and another, grabbing their coats, an epidemic of farewells, an avalanche of leavetaking, though it’s been a splendid party, lots of food and drink, music, good vibes. They murmur their good-byes, it’s been . . . love you . . . and you’re left alone with leftovers, crumbs of cheese, sour wine, crumpled napkins, rancid butts, the chill shudder as you sense it’s time, no one to talk to, nothing much to stay for. You grab your coat, leave the mess for the kids to clean up, lock the door, tuck the key under the mat, you’re out of here. ...

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