Quordiel looked outside through his window, past a simple clothesline, to the adjacent properties.
The morning was bright and cool, a light breeze lifting, swirling, gently pushing against the clothes.
It all seemed calm and peaceful, except deep down inside, Quordiel's heart was troubled and sore, scarred with memories of hours. Hours he wished he could have spent elsewhere.
Things he wished he could have done differently.
Why did things happen the way they did? He longed for an answer to this conundrum, this intricate and difficult problem.
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