The dusty attic.
The afternoon sunlight coming through the window.
Even the sound of the rain outside.
For a few seconds, I wasn’t sixty-eight years old anymore.
I was nineteen.
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The dusty attic.
The afternoon sunlight coming through the window.
Even the sound of the rain outside.
For a few seconds, I wasn’t sixty-eight years old anymore.
I was nineteen.
Local tomcat shows up to a bad situation with a bag of premium chicken-and-rice formula and zero eye contact ANYTOWN: In a story of…