One Last Breath by Liz Elfring

Time passes. First in minutes, then hours, days, weeks. Time passes as I ban  myself entrance into the room. The room with  shades drawn, door closed. No weekly dusting or linen change. Not passive resistance, but gut wrenching denial. End of summer, time for our tradition; Pack; summer toys exchanged for  winter games. A force...

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lelfring
lelfring
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