eleanor

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I miss the feeling of fall. I miss wet leaves smashed into a slippery carpet beneath my feet. I miss the cold turning my nose pink and burning my lungs on long, snowy runs. I miss darkness, as weird as that might sound. I miss candles and hearth fires and hunkering down with a book once the sun set at dinnertime.
Only When It's Us (Bergman Brothers #1)
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