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Her Diary

By herdiary, Chandler, AZ


Dear Self,
Red and brown leaves danced at my feet like they were blaming me, teasing me, cursing me for her passing. I try to accept it, but she loved me more than any sweet desire, more than any record, and more than any boy.


When the hearse came to a stop, I watched them take her out. The long black coffin glimmered in the musky daytime light.
Inside the church the line began for people to look at her one last time. Her pretty freckled face shined, it was too pale. Her lips puckered just a little, as if she wanted a kiss. She made me shiver, she looked cold.
Everyone began to sit down, whimpering while their hands covered their faces. Some were old, some were babies, some were in her classes, most were her family, and one was me.

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