The sun takes a slow stroll down the sky, dips behind clouds, and hovers at the end of the road.
A song about the breeze in the summertime plays in the background. I crack the window as we pass trees bountiful with leaves. The breeze transports me into a recent memory.
It was summer. I sat in a rocking chair on the porch with our newborn in my arms. It would be our one and only summer breeze. The next day, her life would end.
Everything ends.
And now, I feel her breath on my cheek in the breeze.
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