Friendship Letters
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The blood red sky loomed over the graveyard, the last quarter of the sun shining over the tombstone of Wolfe Sheepskin. Flowers and aluminum balloons scattered around the freshly dug mound of dirt. Standing solely at the foot of the grave was a mare, smiling sadly as the autumn wind swept her flowing cherry colored mane. Just three days ago, this was a simple patch of land, unfilled and unmoved, until Wolfe's untimely demise. A large tree branch fell on him during his bi-weekly walk through the ...
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