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Anti-Metamorphosis MAG
The view from the back seat of Mom's stationwagon revealed a world of endless perfection. The tops of snow-coveredmounds peeped over the leather door panel and through my window. Theycame and went rhythmically, matching the beat of my heart. Lookingthrough the handprint-covered glass, I squinted as the sun shone throughthe branches. Large, harmless clouds inspired dragons and bearded faces.Something can look like anything if you stare at it long and hardenough.
The dragons and bearded faces faded with the setting sun,and I pulled my furry blue blanket around my shoulders. MulticoloredChristmas lights illuminated familiar homes. Silhouettes of families andChristmas trees beamed through passing yellow windows; children shookshiny presents, trying to guess their contents.
Monotony soonset in, and I fell over in the seat, asleep. A cocoon of comfortsurrounded me as the car moved smoothly down the road.
Ifinally decided to stop at a rundown gas station for directions. Thelooks I got pulling into the parking space told me to lock the car. Iwatched it through the windows as the clerk told me how to reach my oldstreet.
The neighborhood was decorated for Christmas, but mockedthe festive atmosphere I remembered. Gigantic plastic reindeer and afake Christmas tree had invaded my house, and its walls were a drearyshade of white. I parked the car by the curb and stepped out. Myfoot landed in a puddle of muddy slush, and the chillforced me to go home.
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