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Fleeting With Time
There is a room in my grandparents' house that holds an abundance of my childhood memories that I can scarcely remember. The house is old, and this room is relatively new- this was the room I had always longed to visit as a kid. Soft light pours in through windows and on the red velvet pillows that adorn the couches. Entering the room again felt like reliving a memory that I had forgotten- but the happy and cheerful atmosphere was missing, leaving an empty husk of a room with only the peeling sides of the white chairs to remember them.
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