December 8, 1980
He used to prance quietly across the hall late at night, his strides long and his feet barely brushing the soft, white, Frieze carpet. His open robe would dance behind him – and sometimes, he would catch the ends of it behind his head and the wind would open it up like a parachute above him, nearly swooping him off of his feet and up into the midnight air.

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December 8, 1980
