May drabbles - 17
It’s like archeology, thought Cassie, digging through the layers of a life. On top were postcards from a recent vacation, older letters underneath, and down in the depths the fractured treasures of years forgotten and gone: Grandma’s memory box.
Dust drifted in the cold attic air, making her sneeze. Easier to throw it all out. Just forget and move on.
But she sliced her finger, paper-cut bleeding on the page, then wrapped a Kleenex over it like a Band-Aid on the past.
Archeology takes the details apart. But Cassie was digging through memories so she could put them back together.
Dust drifted in the cold attic air, making her sneeze. Easier to throw it all out. Just forget and move on.
But she sliced her finger, paper-cut bleeding on the page, then wrapped a Kleenex over it like a Band-Aid on the past.
Archeology takes the details apart. But Cassie was digging through memories so she could put them back together.
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