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The clouds light up orange, pink and then slowly darken. The heavy breath of traffic rises above the streets as it flows past like a tired beast. Birds begin to flit towards the refuge of the trees, and lights turn on in houses as people return home. Home. They warn you not to make homes out of people. But aren’t people what turn a house into a home? I used to wait for my father to come home every day. My sisters and I would be busy with different activities, but at 6pm we would all gather in

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