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The Welcoming

I sat in my rented Mustang as dark clouds rolled closer. The air was close, thick like soup. I flicked back through photos I had taken while I waited.

A man knocked on my window so I rolled it down. He invited me into his home, even though I was waiting for my friends. My friend is his son's fiancée yet still, I'm welcomed. A stranger visiting from afar.

That first time I was like a royal visitor. As the storm hit and torrents fell on the Mustang, I felt welcomed. Next time I visited, I became their new family friend.

Story by:

Andrew Shortall

submitted at 10:04pm

2 February 2011