I lay her out, like a corpse in a mortuary. Not a pretty thought, but not as bad as you think, though you'd have to know other things to know why that is.
Am I supposed to do this? Life’s to be lived, not stripped and examined. Without itself, life is unthinkable.
I think maybe I have shrunk with her. But no, I think maybe we have grown.
One thing I find as she dies and lives again – I would give anything for the freedom to ask and the permission to belong there. And I would stone myself for treason.
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