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Rated: E · Prose · Personal · #1038941
Inconvenience breeds memory.
We were five strangers united by politics and chance. Needing a place to sleep, we wandered for hours, poked through abandoned buildings, and settled on the rooftop of an old school.

Together, we helped each other up stacked crates, propped our heads up on backpacks, and huddled together to stay warm.

The night passed slowly as we shivered in the darkness, the concrete chilling us to the bone.

We awoke at dawn, kicking and shaking the warmth back into our bodies. With only a few words, we made our way to the subway, and departed as friends and memories, never to see one another again.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1038941-They-called-me-Backpack