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Night no longer welcomes us. Amber and I used to lose ourselves in the then-unfamiliar roads and paths in our new Town, ending up on strangers' farms, talking under falling stars. This is foreign to us now, our waking scheduled before 7 am and our map of this town settled. If you dropped me within five miles of my apartment, I could be somewhere I recognized within a ten-minute walk.

Last night, an ambulance ba-wooped in our development after I had settled into bed. I threw on insufficient clothes -- for modesty, if not the heat -- sure I would see my neighbor wheeled out of his apartment for the last time. (He is elderly, has terminal cancer, and gives little consideration to fighting his alcoholism. It will happen too soon.)

But no. The ambulance turned on the lights and siren to facilitate turning around. Tykes on trikes infest my development at all hours of late. Adorable though they are, they are also small and daring enough to end up under tires.
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