I lie. My still form in moving. Slightly rustled by the wind. Around me bright yellow and orange. Sewing their dream filled leaves. Spread on the ground, worries float away. With my eyes closed I can feel the hill gently rocking me off to slumber. When I wake the world will return, the worry, the wonder. But for now, in the hills of yellow and orange. I forget.
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the meaning of the world
Short Storya collection of short stories about different topics
