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A Stranger from the East

Gone are the days of monument strolls and metro rides; peaches from the 7th street market and shared cigarettes from the stoop are nothing more than a warm memory on cold nights.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll see her in an airport waiting for a delayed flight with a look of loneliness painted on her face.

What would I do? Would I approach and try one last-ditch attempt for all the marbles? Or would I continue to accept her brutal wish and not exist in her life?

Never before our meeting and ever since our departure, she remains the only person in my life to ask, “If I were to say to you, I’m a Stranger traveling from the East seeking that which is lost”…

My response was and will always remain, “I would tell you I am a traveler from the West. It is I whom you seek.”

Sometimes I wonder if she thinks about me.

Published by kschreiber18

31 years old Buffalo, NY

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