“I know what I’m holding. I know her worth.” It’s an echo, this part of my heartbeat that thrums in my chest, an echo of a life I lived long ago and a man I loved whom I spent my rainy days with. My love for him is still so distinguishable, and for that I’m grateful. Tobias told me years ago in Virginia, that he was happy I was the woman to love him, and I can’t help but to feel privileged because of it, as selfish as it may be. Running a finger over the hood, I reminisce about the star-filled nights we spent exchanging whispers and refusing to acknowledge the guilt those memories evoked. I
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