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  • She was hunched in a yard of untrimmed grass on a sometimes-busy street.

    She didn't look up as we walked by.

    I envied her.

    Not her life. Not her long fingers and pale hair. Not even the book she was reading.

    Just the stillness of her body.

    When we passed by her again an hour later, the slanted afternoon sun had pushed her to the edge of the yard.

    She sat in the fading sunlight, still hunched and oblivious to our passing.

    I waited for her to turn the page.

    She didn't move.

    But everything else did.
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