I lie, staring blankly at the ceiling. The memory of her hand gently caressing my face fades into the misty half-morning light. I fade with it. Sway of back, arch of breast echoed in each tear that trickles slowly down my pale cheeks and tumbles unwittingly into oblivion. I wish I could tumble with them. The whitewashed sky folds its suffocating embrace around the skeletal trees–and I exhale.

Another day.

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