It’s been one month and 12 days since I last spoke to him. Each day worth more hours than just the little twenty-four they claim to have.
I walk away, stridently, towards my own life separate from us and while my foot has been light, my heart has been an eerily still and empty box.
My past set loose, the ribbon slips through my fingers, I look forward.
It’s cold here, just a little chilly. I wake wedged between warm, furry bodies. I wish there was yet another.
I am reset, back to normal. No longer feverishly starved and searching, just blundering, stumbling. A little too free.
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