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Wednesday, August 14, 2013

The room is strange

I open the door and expect to hear the scurry of small feet across the hard wood floor. The room is strange. She has been in it every day for six and a half years, waiting for me. I see her collar sitting on the bookshelf and I looked out the window at the green grass outside. Now, I wait, confused, for her.


(i was inspired to share my feelings about Lucy by the writing of another writer)

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