She clutched whatever she had to her chest. Whatever dignity. She thought to herself. I cannot, do this. But she remembers what her mother had told her. You can, you can. She knocked on the door once, but backed away, out of the doorway, and leaning against the wall. She heard a door open, and then close. While the rain closed in on her, as she stuck out her tongue and let it fall. She could barely hold in the laugh. She took a deep breath and tried again. She knocked on the door slightly, and this time, waited for a reply. Someone opened it up, a man, with a hat, with a smile, with a laugh, with a hug, with warmth, with memories. Without saying a word, he let her into his house, which was elegantly decorated with fancy pottery and bowls. She could fell what had happened, how happy he had been in this house, in this life. Should SHE really be in it? Should she mess this up? She stared at him, while he made tea. She could barely utter out anything.


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steve over 10 years ago

This is truley remarkable.

steve (joined over 10 years ago)

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Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
Prompt suggested by Galen


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