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Jul 2016
I pressed my body hard against the tree, trying to suffocate it's sadness. Memories, the past, future all came rushing out of the **** on its trunk. I'd picked the scab too much. I was holding an infant, brown curls and a matching cut on the top of his forearm. I was holding my father.
Dreams personal
Annie Dark
Written by
Annie Dark
242
   Dana Colgan
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