Sweet scented scintillas of your perfume. I must be dreaming. Of a little girl with smooth soft skin, gently scrubbed, standing in the doorway. The scene ignites like a photograph with seared edges, and I'm sky-high following this sugar rush. Sounds signal the escape I'm to take, and the silliness of this situation makes me smile just a bit. Wherever I go from here, at least I've had this. It's something to keep.
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