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Feb 2017
The cars crawl by, their headlights projecting shadows that slip across the ceiling. I lie motionless below, following them with tired eyes until they fade. A house filled now with sleeping souls, I savor the silence. I think of you in your empty house and your unmade bed and the space you left in mine. You'll never know how often you occupy my mind.
E
Written by
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540
     Atticus and r
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