To the Gates of Hell and Back, Part I

The wind began to blow on Sunday. The sky was gray and and the air held a vague hint of rain for the first time in months. Whistling down the asphalt caked streets and scrubbing away at anything colorful or alive on this February morning, the wind found its way into the house, scaring the cats and presenting to me the ghosts of everything I had sought this winter to forget.

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