The day grew quiet around the house. My face and my arms and back began to ache. All day I spoke only once or twice aloud, and that was to God, for no one else was near me.
I studied and cooked. I picked wild spinach for cooking, and washed the floor in the kitchen. I had a quiet evening. I made bread dough into cinnamon rolls, and oiled the squeaky hinges on the oven door.
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