What if there isn't anymore
It was like any other fall morning. The rising sun sneaked quietly through the bedroom window, painting the walls white – erasing the night, shadow by shadow.
As if being invited to a sunrise party, my eyes slowly opened and the light pumped blood into my head, groggy with unfinished dreams. I observed the several pictures on the wall beginning to awake with brilliant color. I noticed one picture was a little crooked. “You can always count on one being crooked,” I mumbled. “Damn night gremlins.” I made a mental note to straighten it ... again, later.
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