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Her apron strings flailed behind her, like a kite tail, when she left.

A butter yellow moth whispered in her wake.

 

• This a work of non-fiction-fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of my experience. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, are possibly coincidental.
• all artwork and writings are the property of sylvanfairy unless otherwise noted.