Breathing in
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valeria rojas
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Static. Breathless. Peacefully. I am sitting on the kitchen counter counting the little shells I found on the late-night walk at the beach the night before. As I look at them steadily, I separate them into shades of white and brown. I start naming them one by one with a memory that reminds me of you, one that reminds me of us. I have a book in the form of shells in my hands now, each one is a chapter to our story. I know I can’t hold into our memories anymore, but these shells will. They will keep our memories safe. |