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Oh, how I miss you. As a child, I hated you, crying at the mere suggestion of you. As an adult, I scoffed when I heard your name. Older now, I lie in bed—eyes closed—praying you'll overtake me. Without you I'm a listless endless yawn. I need you, dear Sleep. By Lisa H. Owens Created for an Inner Circle Writers' Group 50-word Flash Fiction Friday September 17, 2021
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