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I couldn’t think of anything to do so I sat down before the window.  The book was still there on its stand, a reminder of all the memories I chose to ignore, the possibilities I chose to live without.  The room around me was unchanged by time.  No footsteps marred the fine layer of dust on the stone floor; not even mine.  The edges of the nearby bed were hazy, as they were when I couldn’t look at it for more than a second or two.  Sometimes I would sleep there.  Sometimes I would feel you watching.

Not anymore, though, not for a long time.

 

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