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“A lot of people in my life are coming and going like breezes, so I shouldn’t let the sadness sit,” Emma thought to herself as she closed the front door behind her, leaving her apartment and all the melancholy that should be left inside.

She walked silently, trying to smile although carrying a heavy heart as if all the icebergs in the world have paid rent to stay inside her.

People waiting hastily on the bus stop.
Mothers waving their children goodbyes.
Leaves falling on the ground.
Moccasins, everywhere.
The smell of pumpkin spice latte.

“It’s that time of the year again,” she said. She’ll be turning 21 in a few days and she has then been rationalizing all the decisions she have made in the past months and realized how utterly stupid she had been.

“A beautiful lady like you should be arrested for looking like a lonely girl who has just lost her teddy in this bus stop,” a familiar voice whispered to her. It was Johnny’s.

They hugged briefly and waited for the bus to arrive.

Emma took the world into her, rearranged it, and sent it back out as a question: “What do you do with the sadness then? Do you just keep it and let it all die its natural death inside?”

A great painful silence poured in between them, stretched like iced cords through the air. It felt like guillotine in the middle of raw, bleeding conversations, drifting like a dune.

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