She flipped me alabaster and lukewarm. Steady. Everyone else seemed like they’d kill me if they knew what was inside. I’d play out her day in my head. Close my eyes and conjure her mornings. My insides in her form. Feeling the weight of her comforter. Her muscles (my muscles) going tense stretching out of bed, then rubbery. Fabric slushing soft and loose against her skin (my skin). I’d sit inside her face as she’d eat toast and cereal and grapefruits. Feeling it crumble down her throat (my throat). Dust playing off our skin in the warm nuclear light. I’d feel her walking across pavement, my
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