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Beach house

June 30, 2010

Inside, trails of sand showed where everyone had been. A ghost of a footprint here, a smudge of salty mud at hand-level there. If she could have cradled the house in her hand like a shell and held it to her ear, she knew she could hear their voices again.

Outside, seagulls hollered like old women as they wheeled above the sea. She stepped back into the bright summer light from the dusk of the foyer and shut the door behind her, still unable to sweep away the signs that they had, once, been hers.

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