I don't really have anything to say.
As a young girl only five years into life, I would wake up at the crack of dawn. Sometimes I would stand outside on the porch breathing in that New England country air and waiting for the sun to chase away the mist and wake my golden world. Eventually with these precious sunrises came my first glimpse of a harsh reality.
I remember his figure, dark as the sun had not yet shone. Big barefoot feet, dad never liked to wear shoes, trudged from our tiny trickle of a stream. Riva panted a ways behind, limping on one of her paws but still eying the slab of furry meat entwined within the pitchf...
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