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Elizabeth was silent, dressed in her cozy blue and green sweater and slouch beanie, sitting on the steps of her porch. She was still for what seemed like an eternity, her free strands of blonde hair blowing in the winter breeze as Jack Frost caressed her face. The wind was almost bitter in its blustering against her skin, but the woman made no move to go back inside. Her mind was a tempest, just like the weather, and she found the howling wind was somewhat comforting. . . Besides, it was either stay here until she cooled off, or be tempted to put her fist through the nearest wall. . .
Life hadn’t bee