When Tiffany and I were in the house alone, we avoided the kitchen, instead hiding downstairs, usually in the basement, along with her father’s workout equipment, some couches, a television, and an escape route.  Sliding glass doors opened from the house, back onto her deck, which snaked its way into the woods, emptying either into the canyon on the right or the main street on the left.   It was especially useful in high school, good for sneaking the boys in and out, little noise and no notice. 

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