Rose Marie Johnson: A Short Story

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I sat down at a park bench as Sweat dripped off of my forehead from my morning jog. It was early in the morning, about 7:30 am and the sun was just beginning to rise. My break only lasted a short amount of time because today I had more important matters to address. The name's Rose Marie Johnson, it rolls off the tongue and sounds sweet and regal, I want you to know that this isn't a journal, you could say it's a cautionary tale but it's not a tale it's my reality. I walked off into the park feeling the fresh morning dew against the soles of my shoes and came up to our local library. It wasn't much, a small library in desperate need of repair, over to my right stood a once great statue now reduced to rusty scrap metal. As I entered I found
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