A strong breeze pushed at the martin houses strung from the old oak tree below. Watching them, Ceecee remembered the story Margaret had told her long ago, about how the small birds relied on others to make their homes for them. It made sense to her now, knowing that so much of life was reliant on things outside of oneself, how the whims of others dictated people’s hearts and lives. How dreams and wishes were just so much dust when held against the will of another human being.
-Karen White
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