"What pleasure there must be, Beaviour thought, in doing the same thing over and over. In the past the very idea had revolted him. Routine, repetition. It was death, or at least deadly dull. To lead a predictable life.
But now Beavious wasn't so sure...All he longed to do was sit down with Annie and share the Saturday papers. To do what they did every weekend. Over and Over. Over and over. Until he died."
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