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In by Chris on August 28, 2010 at 4:35 pm

Every so often They glimpsed groundhogs looking out from their burrows, furry heads alert and gleaming in the sun. On the homespun blanket They were safe from his father, safe from her nagging sense of fear. Here They were free to laugh, free to fall into one another. At his home there were scours on the tabletop. At hers there was now a padlock on the door. He and she had changed since that day, but They had not. In the meadow They sat, pointing at a hawk circling above as the groundhogs scrambled into their unseen warrens for safety.


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