What kind of creeper hid in a tree and watched a person at the bottom for… I looked at my watch. Sixty minutes. One hour. I could finally stop counting the minutes and move on to counting the hours. Those were longer. There were only twenty-four in a day and I could sleep through at least eight of them. Then there would be days. Months. Years. Before I knew it, I’d barely remember her at all. Those were the days I longed for. I loved my mother. I didn’t want her to be dead. I just wanted to stop hurting. One hour and one minute. I wondered if my dad had noticed I’d taken off yet or if he was
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