Voices from another room
Conversation overheard between a father and his little kid bursting into his office.
"Where did you come from?"
"I don't know!!"
Giggles of a child, bursts of laughter.
Dreams are the eraser dust I blow off my page. They fade into emptiness another dark, gray day. Dreams are the only memory of the plans have back then. Dreams are eraser dust and now I use a pen. -Anonymous
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