From the loft upstairs, Janyce watched Johnny make a sandwich.
He stacked four slices of bread on top of the flies' coffeemaker-landing-strip, pulled out a coffee mug and crammed a small banana into it, using his thumb.
He flexed muscles, churning it around with a short, flat screwdriver he used earlier to tighten the drawer-pull.
He added a gob of crunchy peanut butter with his grease-coated left index finger. The mixture turned into a marbleized paste. Using a thin broad-knife off the paint-can lid, he spread the goop onto the bread.
"Want a sandwich, honey?"
.
"No thanks; not this time."
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