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The Wrong Door

  • i82838
  • Apr 1, 2022
  • 1 min read

February 10, 2022

Just now I was standing at the front window when a young man of about 18 or so walked up my steps in a swift, familiar way. He was holding a loaf of bread in a plastic bag. He raised his hand to either knock or put a key in the door and stopped. ‘Oh!’ he said, before hastily backtracking and walking over to next door.

I turned from the window laughing and noticed my cat Freckles. She was looking at me as if I’d gone to the wrong door with a loaf of bread.

 
 
 

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I am part of and support Writers for the Voice
I acknowledge the Gadigal of the Eora Nation, the traditional custodians of this land, and pay my respects to the Elders both past and present.

© 2025 by DIANE CONNELL. 

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