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Cigarettes and flowers

Thinking of the forest brought back a lot of painful memories. The soft green grass reminded me of when I used it as a bed underneath me. It rubbed softly against my back as I stared up at the stars twinkling and glowing so high. The few flowers growing beneath the shade of the trees, reminded me of when I would run out of my dad’s arms and fall into them. I would pull them out and hand them out to any one near me. The tall trees reminded me of when I would climb them. I would get bruises and scars from the tree bark fighting fiercely against my legs. Most of all the forest just reminded me of when I was happy. It reminded me of when I would smile care free and laugh uncontrollably. I just wish I could go back to those days. It seemed so far away and distant now, though. It would seem wrong to go back anyway. Considering it isn’t my place. My dad showed it to me when I was 3 and now that he’s gone it just seems wrong. Whenever he got in a fight with my mom he would go to the forest. I could tell because he would smell like cigarette’s and flowers. And the only place where he could smell like that was the forest.





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