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Sarah had never wanted anything more than to sit down at the table in complete silence and enjoy the treats laid out in front of her. There was a voluminous doughnut caked in icing, a steaming cup of coffee and, at the bottom of a trail of smoke, a Virginia Slim cigarette. After a long and tiring day of trying to get her life together, she could come home to he three most favourite vices.

The day was gray with clouds and the faint roar of the city on the other side of the walls made her anxiety bubble. But she knew that when she sat at her kitchen table, there was peace. There were no debt collectors, angry restaurant patrons or harsh directors around to remind her of her continuing streak of bad luck. Ths was the only moment in the day where she could come toward herself and think about all the things that needed thought. She had to make concrete plans for the future and lose the crippling focus that she had on the past. This was her chance not only to regroup, but to be alone. She had always valued her solace, even as a child.

“One of these days, my desperate antics are gonna get me killed.” she thought aloud. It was as if she was speaking to her coffee, to explain why exactly she was drinking it. “I owe too much money to too many people. One day soon, someone’s gonna break my legs.”

She looked down at the newspaper and saw an article on gambling addiction. She had never gambled before, but the prospect now seemed possible to her. “I’ve never thought of myself as having an addictive personality, so it could be a safe bet.” She took a pull from her cigarette.

The kitchen table: a place where Sarah can think. She sits with her vices in the silence and contemplates her next moves. They may not be the best ideas, but they’re ideas.

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