She doesn't know how to speak of her fear, the words seem to come unstuck from her lips painfully and then, hard and rounded like pebbles, scatter on the table, falling into the ashtray, into the coffee cup which, when she is not smoking, she grips tightly in both hands. I try to catch them, to string them together with the words she's still holding inside herself, because by now she's frightened of their very sound.
— Jul 21, 2025 11:33PM
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