lover of all things language x i post poetry and dabble in other literary forms
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Only moonlight and the comforting quiet of a residential street accompanied him on this drunken stroll of the still bitingly cold and early hours of January. Smiling through each stumble, he counted the white picket fences, the front porch rocking chairs, and every window adorned with the promise of a happy family sleeping soundly, safe inside and warm. His feet moved forward faster than his body was able to as he passed by perfect home after perfect home, admiring the monotony, until suddenly stopping in front of one whose lawn had been staked with a sign that read “SOLD” in bold black letters. Staring spiritlessly into the grand and painfully empty dark house, his eyes widened before beginning to weep. Allowing a few drops of sorrow to stream down his cheeks until furiously rubbing them away, he struggled but succeeded in tearing his gaze from the residence that evoked memories still haunting the restricted caverns of his mind.