There I was, all cuddled in my recliner with a solitary lighthouse shaped night-light being my source of light to read my book.
There he was... standing just outside of my door, talking on the phone. He wasn't loud... but his deep toned voice carried through my thin-wood door, bouncing off my hard-tile floor right into my ears. Much to my annoyance, I may add. I tried to focus, but still couldn't.
I knew how to make him stop, but would I do it? It required action, accuracy, and overcoming the struggle of whether or not to go through with it...
So I reached to my box of toiletries, found a heavy bar of soap, and threw it at my door as hard as I could...
Ahhh, silence! I thought, and went back to reading my book. He had walked away after the thundering boom of Irish Spring soap nailing a thin wooden door.
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