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a box
The last card my grandma sent me when she was sick. the little blue bear that's been passed down to me. the poster I made when I was three. the wedding photo of my mom and me. there is a box that hides under my nightstand, that holds the memories of said loved ones. The memories it holds are unforgettable yet at the edge of my fingertips I feel them slipping away. to go to the past yet in the future. the torn-down box is the box that will forever be my time machine.
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