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She gets out the letters. Her paper dreams. Delicately unwraps the foolscap paper, each fold creased in time. Her story weaved with ink and hope. She draws deep, inhales her youth.

She fingers through the letters, her aged digits stumble. She is getting tired. This body is spent. Finally she finds the one she is looking for. The letter she has read a thousand time. The day she remembers best.

Siting back she closes her eyes. Letter tight in her hand. She goes to sleep to dream of paper dreams.

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