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Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
Carynne was on the house phone in the kitchen. “Why aren’t you answering your line?” she asked.
“Turned it off to work on a song,” I said, sitting in a cracked vinyl chair. “What’s up? Why don’t you come over? The gang’s all here.”
“Daron, it’s almost midnight.”
“Does that matter? I mean, really?”
“Someone ought to at least be awake some of business hours, you know.” I could hear her pursing her lips, I swear.