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That Old House
# WritcoStoryChallenge
The old house stood dilapidated and full of memories. Do I enter? If I enter . . . will I remember her? Will I remember the pain? I can't. If I don't . . . will I forget her? Will I forget her love? I must. She died in that house. I saw her die. In my arms . . . I felt her die. I can't. She lived in that house. She read, she ate, she slept in that house. I must. She felt pain in that house. She felt love in that house. She screamed . . . she laughed . . . she cried, she sang, she frowned, she smiled, she hated, she loved in that house. In that old house . . . she held me, she kissed me, she smiled at me, she loved me. We lived our lives in that old house. She loved me. How could I forget her. How could I push away my memory of her. She is dead. It hurts. She loved me. I miss her . . . I will never forget. I will face the pain for her. I will enter that house and accept her death for her. I will fix our house for her. I will read, I will eat, I will sleep, I will laugh, I will feel pain, I will feel love, I will scream, I will laugh, I will cry, I will sing, I will frown, I will smile, I will hate, I will love, I will die, I will live the rest of my life for her. She loved me. In our old house, she loved me.