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Anonymous 4 years ago

To Own the Wind

They own you, the masters of whispers, always listening. How can you hide from the wind?

I watched my copper mailbox dangle from the door of my bar through the blurs of my windshield wipers. The rubber gripped the glass, not a forgotten drop or streak. They were new. The car was new. The mailbox was rusted and tarnished.      It was Sunday, I...