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"Andrew looked thoughtfully at her. He could see where she was coming from but he was not convinced that this was the future for such a bright, educated young woman.She looked shyly at him. "You think I'm dotty, don't you?" No darling. I understand where you're coming from and am very touched but I'm not sure that your answer is the right one. Tomorrow your arm comes out of plaster and after a few days when all the muscles and tendons and things have recovered you'll be back to full fighting strength. Would you do something for me? Give it a fortnight before you hand in your notice?"She thought about it, her eyes never leaving his. She doubted she would change her mind but it was important to take account of his point of view. "Yes, darling," she said quietly.That earned her a kiss which cheered her up a lot.Her cast came off the following morning and the first thing she did was hug him. "That should get the muscles and tendons working," she grinned."Celebration dinner," he replied,. Her eye caught sight of the object that had clattered to the floor when she first struck the creature. It was one of her coffee mugs. She picked it up and smelled it. It had the aroma of chicken broth. She began to put a possible scenario together. The two are stranded nearby. Clara had very set and precise habits which included arriving at the cabin around nine on Friday nights and leaving by two in the afternoon on Sundays or Mondays. It was Wednesday night. No one would expect her to be there. She had not turned on a light, she had not moved from the kitchen chair. She had upset the alien’s timing. She searched the pantry for cans of chicken broth. She bought them by the case at the wholesale mega giant. It had been her primary form of nourishment for weeks. Opening a large can she poured broth into a mug and some into a small cup. She warmed them up just a bit and carried them to the living room along with the ice bag. The alien had not moved from the couch but the small one.
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