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Microfiction Corner: The Summer House

I am shocked when I open the door to the summerhouse. New furniture lies against the freshly painted walls that were once adorned with vibrant orange wallpaper. Whatever. She was doing me a favor by letting me stay here one last time.

As I continue to settle in I am surprised to find one item that wasn’t replaced: a wooden jewelry box. I go through my keys, hoping I did not remove the one that reminded me of my heartbroken past. Alas! There it was! I unlock the box. A soft lullaby plays, and I smile at what I find.

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