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Elijah never had a friend and regarded true friendship as an artform, like so many things people around him took for granted.
His only comfort was the way the sun shined over his scarred face while on a path to a lake and the way its gleam showered over the beautiful trees that flanked the lonely road like a loving mother.
Every moment by the lake felt new and inspiring, blessing him with lucid creativity that helped fill his notebook with characters that spoke to him through nature.
He closed his notebook when light began to wane and started a mile-long walk home.
"I'm proud of you, son," a voice came through a gust of wind before a tear rolled down his face.
This story is linked with Lillie Mcferrin's Five Sentence Fiction