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Submission

December 2, 2009

The helicopters passed over so often, their sound transformed to a cat’s purr, the hum of a dryer. The people curled up in their homes, rocked to submission by the noise outside.

At a party, she huddled in a corner, trying to explain to a new friend what this all meant. The friend shrugged, then walked away to refill his glass. Next to her, a window rattled, though the wind was perfectly calm. She tried to lock eyes with anyone else in the room, but all gazes remained unfocused. She never expected it to get this bad this soon.

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