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Beloved | By Tomi A. | Fiction

“He was running through the fields like the breath of God, screaming and hollering and raising his hands to the sky.” On the twenty-fifth day of July, sometime around two a.m., in my dreamscapes, I came across a little boy on a grass field. I remember that field well; it was where I learned that […]

from Brittle Paper http://ift.tt/2nbvXKb
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