One by one, she picked up every little piece of memory, every instance of love, every smile that had truly smiled for her, every tear that had dropped for her. She picked them all and put them in a bag with a lock, anticipating she would unlock it and relish every memory daily. The lock made sure the contents of the bag was a secret even in the presence of a hundred humans. The attic made it a mystery to the human existence.

Does it really belong to the place where it is kept?


5 thoughts on “Attic.”

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