The apartment was open and we talked late into the night, our voices carrying back and forth between the rooms as we laughed, cackling about things that would only be humorous to friends with this kind of history. The next morning, I awoke to a brilliant blue sky, beautifully contrasted by the earthy brown of the surrounding adobe. It was Saturday and the art enthusiasts were out, so, with coffee in hand, I dropped off our host at work. I returned to find the others still deep in slumber, deep lines on their faces evidence of a restfulsleep.
那房子的设计是开放式的,我们聊天至深夜,笑谈着那些要有同样经历才觉得逗笑的事情,大家的声音在各个房间之间来回飘荡着。第二天早上醒来后,我发现外面阳光灿烂,在周围那泥褐色的房屋的映衬下,蔚蓝的天空显得分外美丽。当天是周六,那些艺术爱好者们都出动了。于是,我手捧咖啡送我们的主人去工作。回来后,我发现其他人还在熟睡,她们脸上压出的深痕表明她们睡得很沉很香。
We checked out town and headed to the airport to pick up the last straggler, who came in from San Francisco for one night. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” she said, despite her 4 a.m. trip to the airport. That night we celebrated over margaritas and Southwestern fare, each of us gazing at the faces around the table as we wondered, who would have thought the bonds of childhood could last this long? Some of us have been friends since the age of five, some since age twelve and, yet, here we are approaching the age of thirty. Quite rapidly, I might add.
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