CAN

The sun turned sharp angles to peek through the tangle of overgrown trees into the garden. An old woman was sitting hunched over on a log, watching large black ants with an air of distraction. She turned her face to the light and scowled. “It is always so bright,” she fussed, turning so the sun hit her stooped back. The frown wrinkles didn’t ease in the dimness, though--they were her favorite accessory.

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