Freckles spotted across her nose make her look young as she looks up at me, and all I can see is her then. Standing on the corner outside the coffee shop, in that silly political tee shirt. She stole my breath away. But I would never be the thief of her happiness. We both know we have embers left in the ashes. We can either stoke them, feed them the oxygen they need to grow into flames again, knowing that that fire would burn down the lives we’ve made, or we could suffocate them. Instead, taking the deep breaths we need to fill our own lungs with air and allow ourselves to breathe. There isn’t
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