Secrets
I see the messages everywhere. Slight perturbations in the alignment of a vee of migrating geese. Cracks in the paint on an abandoned building. Braile and morse in spots of dried gum on the sidewalk. I can’t quite read where they point, but they are all messages, and they are all written in the same hand.
I do sometimes wonder if it’s all imagined, if my mind isn’t fully sound. But other times I am certain that it is that voice of doubt that is the crazy one, in the face of so much evidence.
But what does it mean?
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