My father had left our house in the midst of a fight, between Lindsey and my mother. My mother was trying to get Lindsey to go with her to the Y to swim. Without thinking Lindsey had blared, "I'd rather die!" at the top of her lungs. My father watched, as my mother froze, then burst fleeing to their bedroom to wail behind the door. He quietly tucked his notebook in his jacket pocket, took the car keys off the hook by the back door, and snuck out.
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