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Speaking of Things

A Flickering Light Bulb

All these nights I have stared at her, her face glowing like gold. I have been an obedient slave to her whims, shutting myself in or burning myself away whenever she wanted, hungry for that one look from her. And today, old and dying, when I can obey her no more, she wrinkles her forehead and stares at me for the first time. If only I had known that I had only to be a little rebellious to catch her attention.

-A flickering light bulb

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