That Little Voice
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That Little Voice
My heart pounded, hoping yet fearful.
Would he?
I waited, my eyes searching his face in the dim light of night.
We stood at the bottom of the small rise, hidden under branches of a scrawny tree, hopefully out of sight of my 90-year-old grandfather gently swinging his legs as he waited for my return.
The porch swing creaked as he rocked beneath the single light bulb illuminating his bowed head…
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