My Memories Have Become Fiction

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

As a kid I used to count down things in my head. I would stare out the window of my second-floor bedroom and wait for people. We lives on a dead end street so I would watch the fork in the road; someone could either go up the hill or to our house. I would watch out the window for anybody. It could be my parents coming back from work or the store, it could be a buddy or a girlfriend; it was often just me waiting for a car to drive by…



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