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She sat on the front porch swing, one long leg curled under her, the other pressed against the worn wooden boards of the porch, idly swinging herself back and forth as the sun's rays spread across the old house, bathing her and it in a fiery glow. The peach in her hand seemed to shimmer, as did the juice that ran down her chin when she took a hearty bite. She swiped at it with a finger and laughed, happy because he was on his way home.

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