Paul took a sip of tea as he held the curtain in his sitting room aside with his free hand and perused the busy London street below him. Bundled up men ambled harmoniously along the snowy street like musical pieces in an orchestra, all headed someplace different, but in a perfectly arranged accord. Paul usually loved this time of year; it was Christmas-time, and though he could not be more thankful to be home alive and well, he could not help but feel melancholy.

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