March 9, 2017

“I woke to the man crying. At first, as my eyes opened, I thought the crying was mine, that I came lurching from a dream still devastated. I touched my eyes but they were dry. I opened my mouth slightly and there was no hitching. My throat was not tight, my chest did not burn. I listened to the crying and it was deep, guttural. The crying came from a voice that was not mine and that was when I realized it was the man, sunken deep into whatever grief he kept hidden from me…”

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