Maude looked out the window. Another year had gone by just like that. 71.

When she was younger, the number had seemed so far away. Now, it seemed death's door was beside her. She walked over and played her recording. At once, the ambience of coffee shop chatter filled the rooms.

Seventy-one, she thought yet again, placing strange emphasis on the syllables, hoping it would yield more secrets with varied pronunciation. She sat down on the aged leather couch and checked her voice messages.

"Happy Birthday Maumau!" burst out the voices from her home system. "We love you!!"

She smiled.

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