The orange tree was in full blossom and the sun began to rise on the horizon, but he couldn’t see it. The tree, the last thing he saw as he rode away in the back of the cruiser, was on his mind. The last time he saw the tree it burst with shades of green as if to show the world it was time for summer. It was late spring of ‘03. A dog laid on the porch adjacent from his house. Kids played basketball in the street. An elderly lady swept her door step, locking eyes with him for only a moment and stopping briefly to give him a neighborly wave. Girls walked down the street, wearing shorts that were far to short for them and shirts that cut into a low v-neck. One of those girls wouldn’t make it home that day. In fact, she would never make it home again, thanks to him. Now here he sat, thirteen years later thinking of the tree. Of all the things to think of, he thought of a tree he hadn’t seen in over a decade. He didn’t know the tree was in blossom. He hadn’t seen a sun rise in years. After today it would be certain that he would never see a sun rise again, as the sun was about to set on his life forever. Very soon two guards would arrive at the cell he had called home and tell him his time was up. The thought of it made himself sick. So he thought of the tree.

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