There were these two boys playing basketball in a driveway. The house wasn’t as ostentatious as its neighbors and the kids looked like they were having fun. Actual fun. Summer fun. They looked like kids I might’ve been friends with. Back when I made friends. Whatever they were playing, it wasn’t basketball. Not really. It looked like a game they’d made up. Something that was just theirs. And I remembered how beautiful that could be. Finding something that’s just yours. Something that could only exist in the summer. Something simple and silly and the right kind of exhausting. No thorns. Just
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