Merry, Toney’s wife, was busy putting up the last of the curtains in the dining room. Humming a tune to herself, her smooth hands worked like that of a surgeon.
Jason, their sixteen year old son, held a stick in one hand and a small dull Swiss knife in the next.
He held the knife firmly in his hand, its handle wrapped with a piece of cloth. The knife, his father had given to him as a present, over five years ago. Occasionally he brought the two together, scraping the blade against the wood and blowing off the dust that gathered on his hands.
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