I run through the neighborhood for 10 minutes or more, the cold air embracing me, and painting my cheeks crimson, brittle. I run until the pavement becomes very soft under my feet, and they sink into it, and then lift off, weightless.
I should go back. I shouldn't have left. That was stupid. Now they think I'm mad at them. I'm not mad at them. I
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Thank you for writing it, I more than enjoyed reading it
I feel better, probably because I can relate to it.
Please write more of these
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