The old man still sat with his easel outside his caravan. He’d been here all week, working on a seascape. The wind ruffled his gray curls as he sat and painted. He seemed so alone. No one had visited since he had arrived. He’d been kind to us children, so I waved and walked over
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Comments 21
He's not dead, Doyle! He can't be. Just... missing in action. *nods and wipes her eyes*
Beautiful and sad in so few words...
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Poor Doyle! A whole story in a tiny package!
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Beautiful and so sad ...
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So sad but beautiful written...
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Sorry to hear you've had a bad week, hon! Hope the weekend will be better!
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