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The year there was no fruit

March 10, 2013

Outside, bees dipped feverishly in and out of blossoms on each tree branch. There were so many of them—it was as if they had never disappeared, as if their manic buzz had not been stilled for a moment. She watched them, wondering where they went that year, the year there was no fruit. She wondered how they stayed so focused on their task, as if they had no idea they’d once been gone, as if they had no idea they might, someday, be silenced once more.

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