We are curled up on the couch, in the dim warmth, and outside the glass big drops of cold rain smack down onto the spring leaves, thwacking them down, and then they bounce back up and throw off a shower of tiny droplets, and their tiny back is pressed against my chest and they are holding my arm hard against their chest and they've draped their small warm hand over mine and we are breathing together and we are home.
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AuthorBitter Water
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. Archives
June 2019
Categories© Francie Nevill and Every Sweet Thing, 2017.
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