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fiction?
she left without saying a word. down the stairs, out the door and cold air whipping her face. scarf fluttered and to the car, start engine and go home to stare at the walls feeling trapped in them sucked in by the light blue paint, as though they could not contain her thoughts by their pastels.
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smoke curled off the tip of her cigarette in one hand, the other thick mug filled dark brown liquid growing cold but down her throat and she swallows and takes a drag and looks at her. in the eyes that always sparkle and reflect in the corner up at the eyebrows that aren’t quite perfect which makes her think of the other one... and her perfect arches. smiles to cover up the infidel thought crinkling her face in that cute way with a little shrug and then another drag. I love you expelled with the smoke. a mantra a chant. a comfort pneumonic. like saying the rosary as she subconsciously tugs at the beads circling her throat
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