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peeling again. A wind chime my mother had bought years ago tapped lightly in the breeze.
I killed the engine and sat for a moment, listening to the quiet.
No traffic.
No voices.
Just the lap of water against the shore and the distant call of a bird.
When I stepped inside, the familiar creak of the floorboards met me like a greeting.
Or maybe a reminder.
Every continue reading …
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