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The Widow

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The corners of her eyes drooped, and her skin sagged into a vague frown. Her ashy grey hair-disheveled-covered half of her thin face. Shaking and weak, the old widow staggered away, heaving disjointedly with every broken step. Her feet stumbled, bare and bruised, on the sharp rocks in the crumbling driveway. Facing the elaborate rusted gate, the old woman pondered a lone black spider resting dead in its ripped web. The gate opened with a groan, and she found herself on the cracked sidewalk looking back though the ironwork. As she stood hollow like a new amputee, the dead, jagged branches moaned in the lifeless gust. She walked away from her home, leaving her heart inside.




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