Presence
It was always there even when it wasn’t, the thought of eradicating that from constant memory was more terror then one could comprehend. All along the Fence in the yard there were patch’s of flowers that grew wild, the resemblance of one’s true colors were forever clouded as the load Clank of a belt hitting the floor echoed of the walls painted with such precision, the thought of maintaining such perfection still comes to mind never fooled by the neurotic, but it was still there, a change was in the air, presence never felt more strongly in one presence without one present, cast the die aside the mold is cracked, never again will it hold the same way.
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