I was born.

I grew inside a safe shelter.

I took a long walk with a good man.

Two little girls appeared. They laughed, they cried, they flew away.

Then there were two more.

I played some songs and I wrote some words.

Once, a butterfly landed on my chin.

I ate tiramisu drowning in cream.

A small brown cat threatened me every day with the Little Paw of Death.

I let go of more things than I kept.

I kept more things than I should have.

I got lost. I am still lost. I am finding my way back.


[For more 100-word stories, buy Stolen Postcards here. For a great deal bundling Stolen Postcards with On The Edge, go here.]

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