One glimpse of you, waving limply as you zip through the double doors, my equilibrium is gone. I know it’s the only greeting I’ll get from you today. I sit behind you without speaking, staring at the dark hairs that curl against the nape of your coppery neck, eyes flickering to your key-cut profile each time you turn your head, remembering how it used to be to laugh with me. We held hands and prayed; I stole impious glances downward to see the shapes of our fingers twined, relishing the warmth of your grasp. What happened to us, mi pana? What happened? My palms reach upward, outward, my hands unheld and empty.
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