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Ninety-Six: Little Boy.

GERALD JACOBS.

MORE THAN 30 YEARS AGO.

I sprinted into the forest with halting labored breaths escaping my lips. I threw looks over my shoulder as I stood there, right where we first met. I halted, desperation etched across my face as I looked at the trees.

Shafts of the morning sunlight filtered through them and I had to narrow my eyes because my vision dimmed. Suddenly, I couldn’t see so clearly but you see, the moment that I scented her again. The perfect Vanilla cologne with a stint of woodsy mint.

She spelled like nature herself, like blooming flowers and a crystal clear sky and then my eyes cleared. It was fate, no one could tell me otherwise because I wasn’t even sure I would see her again. But there she was, standing in a small clearing, bathed in a soft, ethereal light.

Our eyes locked into each other and time seemed to pause for a moment. I lifted my feet to walk towards her and Susannah did the same. Tears stung the back of my eyes as I fell into her embrace, holding her
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