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Thursday, November 6, 2014

Kleenex and 1 am Blogs

I want to go home, she said. Tears streamed down her face, tears of loneliness, of longing. It had been too long, she was weary, she wanted to feel loved again. Safe again. Home was where she felt understood, where she could curl up under a blanket and listen to the rain, where she tore off large chunks of roti and wrapped it around steaming curry, where she rollerbladed to the quick beat of 80's music.

She sat silently, cross legged on her bed, and thought about home. There were at least 4. None of them were less than 5,000 miles away. And she was 34. She was home. Even if it would never feel like it. . .

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