Monday, December 12, 2011

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She woke up, not on her usual side of the bed. A pile of scrap poetry brushed up against her limp hand pressed firmly into the beige carpet. In the crevice where wall meets ground, a line of ants went about their morning march, so determined to slip through the crack in the side of the bedroom door. She wanted to welcome morning with open arms, but instead, was slapped in the face by it's harsh, sobering light. As memories crept back into the minds focus, her standards were doubled, ten fold at a time. The air hummed with silence, the room, breathing in, as each ray of sun streamed through the windows and heated its interior. That same throb took a grip of her throat, prodding at her conscious with that one phrase...
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