112 words: Home

“Where you comin’ from?” The waitress asked, pouring steaming coffee into the traveller’s cream-white coffee cup.

I am from here. He thought. These grass and these leaves.
I am from across the ocean. Where the lighthouse sits at the edge of the blue earth.
I am from the city. The bright lights blinding the stars. Noise forever echoing in ears.
I am from the North. Where miles stretch between people.
I am from the West. Where mountains are stitched to the skies.
I am from a thousand miles away and right here.
I come from nowhere and everywhere, he wanted to say.
He choked on the words, a hiccup in his throat.

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