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Roz Symon

Writer, Illustrator & Creative Communications Coach

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Posted on by Roz Symon

378

My short neighbour struggling to attach a rambling rose, I, taller, stop and help.  She taps my arm. Asks if I’d heard?  Her husband died on Friday. Her daughter’s sick. In 4 years, we’ve exchanged little more than the occasional “Bonjour”. I struggle to find words that don’t sound trite.

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