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The Butterfly Man

cover-butterfly-manOutside the Manitoba morning sky was an acrylic palette of blended hues; reds, oranges, yellows; all highlighted by golden light. The morning sun lit a world filled with buds and shoots hungering for the caress of the fiery orb rising higher.

Steven sipped his coffee, his kitchen forgotten as he stared out of the picture window. It was best to start long days early, but to forget to stop and see the world was a sin he would no longer commit. Had not Julia accused him of such? The coffee was bitter without sugar. Only the kitchen clock broke the morning silence.

With a sigh he checked his watch. It was time to start; he threw back the last of the bitter aromatic liquid. The garbage bag waiting by the kitchen door brought another sigh. It was the little things you miss, he realized. Not the arguing, the yelling; not the long conversations, but the constant sense of another in the house. The lingering scent in the washroom, flowers on the table, the gentle touch of her hand as she passed him in the hall. The smell of bread, the sound of her breathing at night, her scent on the pillows…

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