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On my bed

Lying on my bed, sinking into the doona, I watch reflections in the ceiling light. People walking, a white car driving past. The curved glass is a fishbowl holding a miniature world.

Rattling plastic wheels pass by, the blue gloved cleaners pushing trolleys of disinfectant. I wait for the buzz to fade and slowly the crows and pied currawong fill the space again.

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