Published by 50-Word Stories (fiftywordstories.com)
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Where the creek bends is as good a place as any, pills in your pocket, short note signed. Cold in January, lonely too, but that feels right. Until you notice those bare stalks are forsythia, dried seed heads—rudbeckia? Ironweed? And you think you can wait, like them, for spring.
Girl, yes. This is, touching, and cold, with a breath of hope at the end.
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Thank you, my friend!
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“Cold in January, lonely too, but that feels right.” money
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Thanks very much!
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