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Three days and three nights and here I am where I was. Looking inside again to see who’s acting up, and all this time I thought it you. But the hour is as late as it is early for my tomorrow is your today and predictions of a week-long hazardous ozone has me indoors squinting from the glare of the July sun. Would it be okay for me to sleep my life away forgetting about the growing collection of rolled up newspapers on my driveway? Grass that was once green is growing back brown.

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Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist