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This isn’t a particularly festive post but it was a good piece of short prose. Maybe someday it will grow into something more than a paragraph.

Abandoned gum wrappers, brown grass clippings, the remains of someone’s ice cream cone. The sidewalk was dull, cracked, and covered in black pock marks that had at one time been fruity or minty and enjoyable but now were ugly and tasted of dirt and rejection. Bright Sketchers, Converses, and the occasional Stiletto all seemed to scream the inadequacy of her warn, generic sneakers. How could she feel so alone when she was surrounded by so many people? She was tired of looking at the ground. With great effort, she lifted her heavy head. The sky was less condemning but no less dreary. There wasn’t a hint of blue or a ray of sun that penetrated the thick layer of clouds. They were grey and clumped together in places like someone had spread too much peanut butter on a slice of invisible bread. And yet in other places, farther in the distance, it looked like someone had pulled cotton candy down into peaks with a broken comb. They were rain clouds. Without warning, she felt large drops on her face. Were they tears or rain? Maybe, just maybe the sky was crying with her. She didn’t know, but she was grateful.

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