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Friday

Homecoming(C)

I lived here 15 years ago.

It is still the same. The house –more decrepit. The trees-taller. The lawns- wilder. The same faces- on ever younger children.

Change happens.

But nothing has changed. The same air, the same water. Even the tea glasses.

The same oppressive feeling of stagnation.

Nothing has changed.

Except me. .

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