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He is Real
The smell of freshly baked cookies fills the air. I Set them on the mantle of the fireplace to check the next morning. Carrots for his friends. Wafting me to sleep on the couch. Waking up thinking it's morning just to see a figure in the light of the tree. No way it's really him.
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This is written in a genre called 55 Fiction and is a novel told in exactly 55 words.