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Silence: He is sitting in his chair, upright with hands on his knees. Like a Japanese ambassador or something. Before sitting, he had stood in front of the television with the remote control and adjusted the volume to a moderate setting, not too loud but loud enough so that he could hear everything clearly and without missing anything. Then he pressed another button to find something worth watching. A movie he liked was just starting. He sat down in his chair and placed the remote on the stand next to the chair, pointing forward. He pushed himself against the chair's back and placed his hands on his knees. The opening credits were going. If she asked a reasonable question, he would respond as briefly and efficiently as possible, but nothing more. Let brevity be the courtesy. She will come in and he will do nothing. He noted what could be seen in his peripheral vision; the curtains, the bookshelf, some light coming in from the kitchen, his hands on his knees. He wonders if he will say anything at first, if she said something. She will say something, no matter how subtle or cute she thinks she is. But he will not instigate. Do not start, he thinks. Don't give her anything. Do not give her the satisfaction. You are just sitting here and watching television. She will be back soon. He bears down on the screen. One word and he will rip her goddamn throat out.