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I find shelter from the storm. In his arms I find I forget my troubles.

Late nights on Greyhound watching the next city appear on the horizon. Drifting to sleep as the bus pulls out again.

Into the darkness I peer into the vast empty of countryside. A house with a teenager at a desk. He doesn’t see me and I only a momentary glimpse of him as the bus moves on down the empty road.

I travel in memory like I’m on a bus touring the places in time I’ve been before.

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Categories: Fiction short story writing

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