Snow still lines the streets of this one horse town, but the warm sun promises spring. Yesterday's mourning procession fades in my memory as the "The Truth the Dead Knows" echoes in my memory.
"Why am I still here?" I ask myself. Park the car. Walk to the grey cube holding my daily intake of potential and note-taking.
Deep breath. Just a little more time till and you can cross "Living overseas" of the list. Then "writing a novel." Then "finding true inner peace."
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