You go to the store or the park or the coffee shop and you wonder what the people you see do for a living, what their fathers are like, if they’ve ever had a broken heart, or the first time they cut their finger. You wonder what brought them here, at the same time as you, if it was meant to be. You look at the black gum on the sidewalk and the ribbon in a young girl’s hair and the soda stain on the sofa and wonder why those things are there. Suddenly everything has significance. Everything is history.
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Title by: Anonymous
Story by: Jeremy
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