A stick of gum and a wad of paper.

I often dreamed of moments like these,  the innocent refrain of hearing my name called out affectionately and the peace that I knew that would be waiting home for me.   The hearth was warm,  the gentle flicker of flames danced hypnotically and assuringly.   What was there to mourn?  Right?

But life has a cunning way about it.    It marches to it’s own cadence, summarily deciding on a whim whether a fall or fortune would be good or bad.   In that case the seeming tranquility was cloaked in an aether of steadiness.   Nothing to worry about or so it seemed.

However the pernicious dark clouds were soon gathering and my foothold upon a fissure.   The subtle security in that moment vaporized and I fell like a rock feeling the passing of time into a new setting.   It was like heaven without any of the soft nurturing clouds.

Settings once familiar had a certain oldness to them with mostly the same structure but without any soul.    I looked upon the doorway to my mystery and the door was tightly locked.  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my key,  surely things were okay.  But now even that didn’t fit.   Why?   Were the people that I saw across the street look-a-likes?  Replicas with stone hearts?   Did they conspire?  Was I a stranger?

The windows outside were frosted over and the place looked abandoned,  the leaves unraked and the smell of disuse permeated the surroundings.    Even the birds looked like holograms in a 3-D movie.

Walking away from my moorings,  I drifted like a lovelorn log out to sea.

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