I never felt homesick, not until the moment I went back...
"Where are you going?" I hear them calling, but I don't reply. I can barely hear the sound of my name over the crunch of the leaves below my feet. I feel the wind blowing my freshly cut hair into a tangly mess as I walk deeper into the woods. With one deep breath the memories of a
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Okay, I was confused a little. First, in the 'memory', it is from her perspective. The second 'memory' is from his perspective unless there are three people in the memory.
It feels like you could go further with this piece. Have you considered that?
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Although... I'm working on his standpoint as well... but I can't seem to make them flow together.
I got the inspiration from a piece that I read in the local paper...
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