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Christopher Kornacki |
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her hands, full of tears she's crying outside on the front porch because of some inconsiderate thing i must have said. i tried mumbling something in consolation, but that only made things worse. her hands were cupped over her eyes and they just filled up and spilt over with more and more salty tears. i don't know what's more upsetting for her: what i actually said, my lack of understanding, or my inability to make her feel better. i tried rubbing my hand on the back of her neck expecting there to be some kind of hidden facet i just needed to twist to turn the tears off. "don't touch me," she said. impatient and clueless, i came inside to wait for the tears to naturally stop flowing. but it feels like i'm waiting for the sun to dry up the whole Pacific Ocean. [Index] |
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Thunder Sandwich #26 - Summer/Fall 2005 |
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