By Andy Alt

May 23, 2010

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She sat there and stared, her eyes dull and glassy. She sighed. Her feelings were as dull as her eyes, like a knife that has been used too much. Her thoughts were slow, and to reach each one was like swimming through molasses.  Sometimes it was too much of an effort to reach them, and they flitted away from her on the breeze that brushed her ash blond hair across her face. She sat on the porch and stared at the lovely garden and evergreen trees, not really enjoying... Read More

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