the coffee cup stained page was the last meme in my blank journal.
the watch, camera and glasses were props, a way to say everything in one frame that a lifetime of second takes hadn’t accomplished.
i’d gotten on my knees one too many times, made one too many wishes and failed miserably at accepting with grace my final hand, a hand that hadn’t been held with care in so many years that it wouldn’t recognize care if it wore a thermal glove.
the coffee was black because i knew it would evoke laughter. i never knew how to escape a day without sugar.
the coffee cup stained page
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