Wednesday, January 22, 2014

on gloves and slipping



She found that full fragments of the stories she used to tell of youwould leave her at the most inconspicuous moments. Once she was driving when she caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror, dappled light on her jawline and her proud leather gloves gripping, and she realized she forgot how she felt when she met you. Another time she woke the dogs in the night when she gasped and sat upright in bed, sensing a stream of your laugh leaving her for good. How would she explain this if she had to?

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