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A Poem and Short Story
6 Word Memoir
Not allowed around oil tanks anymore.
As we go through the toll booth, my dad stops in the resting area and tells us he has something for us in the back of the car. As he opens the back my mind is racing. Is it a gift? A card? Late birthday present? It wasn't, at all. As he sat down and opened the cardboard box, a tear rolled down my cheek. It was Abby my dog. She passed away this summer.
Article posted December 3, 2010 at 08:05 AM •
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