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In the house, you are alone. Most hours you spend making melodies, the rest spent in bed in a peaceful slumber.
Now though, you are curled up under a blanket of white fleece, nestled against the cushions of a dark red chair. There's something missing, you notice, staring into the glowing fire.
Had it been fate that you weren't there during the roaring flames? Was it a blessing or a curse? You would never know.
Was it the laughter you grew so found of? Or maybe it was the bright smile and reassuring voice you didn't like to admit gave you so much comfort.
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