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Was It Cake?
Was It Cake? “It’s not cake!” my wife screamed as the cleaver split the thermostat in our foyer. I pushed past her and sank my chef’s knife into the Ethan Allen sofa we had bought when we moved. Goose down spilled out of the gash. I looked at my wife and grimaced. “Not cake!” our children screeched as they danced in the floating feathers. Seven days prior, w...
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