Matt Bonacci

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Before she fades, I think: I love you. I love you. I love you, Caroline. Then I can see only her eyes, and my reflection in them, and I’m falling backward, backward, back through the stars, through the earth, through the watching woods. Over a lake. Across a meadow. Into a house. Into a home. Into a hive, where a young queen has just awoken.
The Honeys
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