# 8 DESERTING THIS DAY OF HURT

For a moment, she stood there on the front porch, alone, her arms draped around her body.  The bottom of her eyes felt heavy.  Hoping the east wind too calm her heart, her eyes it drenched instead.

“DESERTING THIS DAY OF HURT”

Copyright © 2016 Annmarie Deen & David Alexian

All rights reserved.

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