'D' stands in the doorway, hands pressed tight to the smalls of her back, watching the world. Her eyes are filled with the past, deep nut-brown pools of ever-dimming memories that no longer feel real. The world rushes by, and she stands still on a small concrete stoop that is replicated every 50 feet for as far as the eye can see. Her hair drifts down across her forehead towards her eyes, but she doesn't notice for the longing for something else. Her face is littered with lost dreams; they hide in the droop of a muscle, the shadow around the eye, and ridges in her chin.
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