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In the background, there’s a young woman, playing originals on a humble stage at a coffeehouse open mic night.  In the foreground, there’s a table housing a game of Euchre, cards, a few young ladies and an older man playing out a hand.

That musician, she’s a friend.

The man, he’s her dad.  You’d never know.  He doesn’t father her.  She doesn’t live with him in a messy house on an island near a city.  Her dad is sick, but in his heart he loves her with an overwhelming love.  Sometimes, he blames his medication.  Always, he offers to carry her things.

The song she sings, it’s about a time when friends were friends in another way.  Things are different now.  They’ve pushed for change and it’s not the same.  It’s not the same.

When her dad was still married to her mom, they used to play cards, this game, even.  Maybe he was well then.  Maybe they were happy and he didn’t call hearts out of turn, just to keep the action going.  So Euchre plays on, while his daughter sings songs in a suburban-urban coffeeshop.  She’s tired, so she’ll only sing three songs.  Then, sit near at the table with the cards, drinking coffee with French vanilla creamer.  Drinking French vanilla creamer with coffee.

In the background, in the foreground.

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