It's rather quiet now. All that can be heard is the soft hum of the ceiling fan, the trickle of water from my fountain, the rustling of the leaves in the wind, the tapping of the rain on the plants outside my window and the slight rumble of thunder in the distance. Many sounds, but all speaking in a whisper.
You can smell the rain in the air. That magical scent of nature that drifts along the night breeze, telling you of the changes mother natures has planned. The flash of lightning that shines through the window, a reminder of the meagerness of man.
Faces from behind glass frames peer out with smiles on their faces, void of all fears. Faces of by gone times, old friends and loved ones long gone. The candle flickers as the light reflects off the glass frame, reminiscent of the life that burned so brightly from the hearts and souls of those whom are remembered.
It's so quiet here. It's just me.
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