Mark nodded even though she couldn't see. He'd suddenly lost any desire to talk, and his plans for a perfect day washed away with the stream. The memories. They never let him go, not even for a half hour. They always had to rush back in, bringing all the horror.
But the wind always swept my words away like cloud shadows, as if it mattered more that I said them, than who heard them.
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But the wind always swept my words away like cloud shadows, as if it mattered more that I said them, than who heard them.
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