Another night and she’s still away. I just cannot remember when she really left.
I can see her picture from here. It remains up there on the table. It looks like it was taken thousands years ago. Nevertheless, time seems to forgive that picture.
It is a quiet night. But it’s really cold.
Yes. It is a quiet night. That’s why I sleep here, under the bed. So I will not disturb her in her sleep, wherever she is.
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