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Not Quite Right

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After a long plane ride, it finally ends. The plane lands and all is good when I get out. I get my luggage and see my sister waiting to pick me up outside. I hop in the car with her and she drives me home. As I hug my sister goodbye and walk into my small, empty home, I cry. I cry because it doesn't feel like home. It's not right. Maybe it's the small amount of furniture or maybe it's the fact that I live alone in a three bedroom house. But it doesn't feel like home, it feels like a place where I don't ever want to go back to. If only I knew why...
 
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