Time is striding on, crunching, squelching through every new season. I want to pull it back, scream at it, say, “What the f*** are you doing? How dare you leave him behind? We must stay, stay back in those moments where he was still warm, where all hope of him coming back hadn’t faded, where we still felt the impact of his actions eddying around us, where the hum of him still reverberated. . .”
And I agree.
I was in a giant bubble floating above a long table where people were eating. As I floated around the table, 10 feet above everyone, one of the men looked up at me.
He threw something up at my bubble. I was surprised and scared.
He did it again and this time it burst my bubble. It caused me to fall straight down, onto his lap. I was embarrassed.
I don't care.
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