The presence of happiness was almost audible, as if hearing had broken with the superficialities of sound and finally penetrated the deepest parts of silence, which before had been hidden by solitude. Our moments of sleep had that kind of warmth where you cannot tell the dream from the body, the nest from the wings. I can still feel the imprint of her profile on my chest — perhaps invisible, but my fingers find it faithfully in the leaden hours of this physical error that is one body alone. My memory seized every instant, setting it aside. Where I come from we call that a nest egg; there was
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