16 Jan 2022

I long for people I’m already with, imagining their future absence or drumming up an alternate past. I patiently absorb the now as a third person. I relish the moment when I can wrap up the memory like a package. Orderly. Tossing breadcrumbs, hugging my mom.

In a dark foreground, two bouquets of flowers sit on a fireplace mantle. Light streams in through living room windows, reflected in a mirror.

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