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The Trauma of Cream-Topped Milk
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Locker Room Mishaps and Memories
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Greys Amid Colorful Brilliance
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Mop-Topped Liverpudlians
Links to More of My Stories
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The Trauma of Cream-Topped Milk
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Locker Room Mishaps and Memories
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Greys Amid Colorful Brilliance
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Mop-Topped Liverpudlians
Links to More of My Stories
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The Trauma of Cream-Topped Milk
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Locker Room Mishaps and Memories
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Greys Amid Colorful Brilliance
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Mop-Topped Liverpudlians
Links to More of My Stories
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The Trauma of Cream-Topped Milk
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​
​
Locker Room Mishaps and Memories
​
​
​
​
Greys Amid Colorful Brilliance
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​
​
​
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Mop-Topped Liverpudlians
Links to More of My Stories
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​
​
The Trauma of Cream-Topped Milk
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​
​
​
​
Locker Room Mishaps and Memories
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​
​
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Greys Amid Colorful Brilliance
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Mop-Topped Liverpudlians
Susan Lundgren
Writer
Creative Non-Fiction Memoir Fiction Poetry
Photo by Mimi Carroll
Visitor Seen From My
Office WIndow
India​
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Within seconds the roadway disappeared beneath the churning slush below. Trees were no longer visible, except for feeble green branches peeking above monsoon swirls. Our bus careened down the narrow roadway, curving both directions as the earth crumbled into the morass of terrifying waves. Locals rushed to one side, assessing the danger, chattering loudly in an unfamiliar dialect. My breathing stopped as I silently willed them to remain seated, to balance the vehicle and increase survival chances. I thought of home, what brought me here, and who would know what became of me if we fell into the crashing waters below.
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