An old story lost in between the pages of my diary (Fiction) The orangish red sun rise in the early morning; the music of the tiny little creatures getting ready to fly out to work; the sweet smell of my blossoming pink rose; the dancing green trees; the cool breeze that sings when it feels my window. Oh! I am going to miss you all. It's taking me away from you. I do not want to leave you, but it's taking me away. It's AIDS!
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