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  • Her fingers and cheeks were shiny with exhaustion and warmth. A mess of ringlets framed her still face, her thumb half in her mouth. The late afternoon light of August poured through the part in the old curtains and embraced the sleeping girl. I watched from the neighboring pillow as the little specks of dust drifted and got lost in the golden glow. They didn’t seem to be in any rush to go anywhere and there wasn’t any wind to push them against their will. Yet the tiny flecks of light seemed to be drawn in by the sleeping child as if with each gentle inhale the dust bits were overcome with an infinitesimal attraction. They drifted ever closer. I watched as they settled gently to their place of rest upon my company’s closed lashes. Although the dust had ceased to move the small specks still held the glow of the light, simple jewels to this sleeping beauty’s visage. Sleepy breaths escaped her as she escaped the rest of the afternoon.
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