A Short Piece by Josh Robert Nay. “A flower on my window sill once told me the secret of existence. I didn’t listen, so caught up in my stress-consumed life and my miserable day to day routine that the flower’s pedals of prediction failed to penetrate even the most concentrated knots of my soul. And so, alone on my window sill, the flower met the end of its short life without being heard or acknowledged. A few years later, an eight year old boy laying in a hospital bed asked me why he was dying so soon; what it was

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