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"Well why do you have to do that?"
"Do what?"
She stood in the doorway and looked down on me from the top of the stairs.
"Grunt. It's just so"dramatic."
I felt the sweat on my forehead drying.
"I mean, does it help you? To make noise?"
A pause while she waited.
Finally I said:
"I'm not sure. I think it gives voice to an atavistic impulse."
Suddenly she stomped her foot. The stairs shook.
"I hate it when you talk down to me!"
She burst into tears. The room yawed sideways.
"Baby what's wrong?!"
I stood up. Wasn't sure if I should go to her. She looked away.
I waited for something.
Her eyes drifted.
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