I stumbled into my house,
my brain refusing to work.
I don’t know why, but I
found myself shuffling into by bedroom, into the closet, looking for that box
of old keepsakes and memories that I had hidden behind my shoe rack.
I found it quickly
enough.
I pulled off the lid, and
started fishing inside.
There, buried at the
bottom, was what I was looking for.
My old high school
yearbook.
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