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| >> Static Item >> Short Story >> Romance/Love >> ID #1427970 |
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Night falls on this empty house. I pick your post-it off the floor, again.
"Gone for milk, BRB" But you never did. The scent on your pillow is spent. I shuffle through days. I dream most nights. Cars crash. Muggers mug. Hearts stop, not mine. I put the post-it back on the fridge.
© Copyright 2008 Nova Dove (UN: novadove at Writing.Com).
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