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James Alexander Hughes

Barefoot on the throne I sat at age five, gnawing a carrot and pondering the brand new, intriguing concept of infinity. My great grandfather, James Conlan, the oldest member of my family had just passed away at age 88. I remember believing the older you are the stronger you were. In which case, my great granddad must have possessed major strength when he died. Yet, as old as he was, infinity held more years. So, infinity must be far stronger than 88 even. On the verge to some grand force, if only I could gather enough patient days, would infinity wait for me? I wondered.

Dusk approached the summer day outside my big yellow house. Inside, I was all alone, aware of a definite peacefulness that lingered within the silent home, maybe because nobody knew I was there.

My teeth were busy nibbling the carrot’s nub when I heard the screen door slam and my name called out. My moment of introspection and quietude, interrupted.

“In here!” I yelled back.

“What the heck are you doing?”

“Going to the bathroom!” I embarrassingly announced.

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