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Cardboard Boxes

Cardboard boxes stacked high by the front door, filled with hollowed out memories of everything that was now to go. The familiarity that maybe you didn’t even like at the time now replaced with a hurt that won’t stop throbbing. His shoes no longer sit by the front door and his briefcase no longer leans up against the coatrack. His toothbrush no longer rests on the left side of the sink faucet. He doesn't walk through the front door every night anymore. His stuff is really gone. He's really gone.

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