Thoughts of a Dying Musician by FarBeyondNear, literature
Literature
Thoughts of a Dying Musician
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These walls seem so empty now, don’t they…? I suppose that’s the point though, isn’t it? I left this place so many years ago that I can hardly believe I still know the way around here. So many memories… Buried here along with my past self. This coffee table is so smooth… I wonder why I thought it wouldn’t be. I can almost see outlines of picture frames that no longer exist in the hallway. Why am I crying? Is it because of him? Well… maybe. I remember so fondly, sitting right here with him, laughing and ignoring our english project. Fitzgerald, was it? I can’t