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Wren de Fuego. Our prompt was to write for 10 minutes then destroy what was written. I had decided earlier to make it a pact with myself whilst scarfing down a pastry I’d grabbed at the corner shop, a pastry full of sugar and wheat, both of which do me harm but with whom I have a history of sneaking in a dangerous dance.

So I wrote for 14 minutes, saying goodbye to bad food, forgiving myself, forgetting hurt and not apologizing for being who I am, and lit the morning wood stove fire with my words. Who would have thunk it.
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