While reading a critics views about a play I had recently attended, a rock came crashing through my window. It dropped to the floor without inflicting further apparent damage. Looking through the broken window, I could not see the perpetrator. I picked the rock from the floor and noticed it had left a small mark on the hardwood.
I placed the rock in the small garden that brightened up the front of the building with the thought that it would look nice there. But I would not rest with a final opinion until I could see it in full daylight.
I returned to my living room to attend to the broken shards of glass laying about. I retrieved my broom and dustpan and thoroughly swept the small pieces fom the cracks in the seperated lathes of wood. I cleaned the mark where the rock landed with a damp cloth and noticed that it did leave a scratch in the wood. After throwing the cloth in the laundry, I affixed a measured square of plastic over the broken section of the window.
Then I felt satisfied to resume the interrupted column I had been reading in the newspaper.
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