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By @RoseOfNoonvale

Quiet Uptown

It’s quiet uptown.

The leaves drift around me in the autumn breeze as I walk slowly down the street. The buildings are shorter here, the gardens greener, the sky more vibrant. I had never truly enjoyed the quiet before now.

Birds are chirping and singing in the trees as I slowly walk to the top of the hill, my hill. The hill with the tree and the bench. That bench, with a single gravestone just to its right.

Book in hand, I slip into the seat with a sigh, stretching my legs out before me. “Alright,” I say to nobody. “Let’s try this one last time.”

I allow the book fall open and begin to read.

“Death keeps no calendar. It never takes a wise man by surprise; he is always ready to go. A person who has learned much has learned how to die. Death pays all debts and takes no bribes. Death is the most unjustified of all fears; it is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live. The fear of death follows from the fear of life; a man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. Death is the wish of some, the relief of many, and the end of all. I am prepared to die.”

A wind sweeps around me, roaring, letting the leaves strike my face and tousle my hair. I close my eyes and listen to the wind screaming down the streets, breaking branches and throwing stones into the air. The sound is deafening, thunderous in its volume.

The wind stops, and all goes silent.

I am no longer on the bench. Another grave has appeared next to the first. Leaves settle back on the ground.

It’s quiet uptown.

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