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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