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SUSAN   MARIE  FRONTCZAK

Tide’s hands, wanting more on shore, reached for the land, palms down, grasping.  But the sand loosened at their grip, and they slipped back, to the sea.

Dickens the cat had a tail of two cities.  Born there, we moved here.  We moved again.  He found his way back.  Two cities was his limit.

© Lermontov Microstories website by Romain Lasserre

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