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Buried deep in my back yard is an old antique box. Digging it up takes hours. No. Days. The dirt gets all over. I cough up dirt. It gets in my lungs. It gets in my eyes. I feel faint.

The box is closed. It looks old. I stare at the box and I half-expect that it too stares at me.

This is the personal page of LogicalRoger and does not represent the views or opinions of Braingle.
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