The Night They Realized Every Argument They’d Ever Had Was Happening in the Wrong Room

The argument began, as most of theirs did, over something trivial.

A lamp.

Or rather, where the lamp should go.

“It blocks the hallway,” Simon said, standing with his arms crossed, surveying the living room as if it were a problem he could solve by rearranging furniture.

“It’s always been there,” Ruth replied, her voice tight but controlled.

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