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  • You know it when you wake up. That rough edge to the day; as if, for all its sunshine, there is some alignment that is just off, some slot it hasn't dropped into.

    For those days: a dress. Wearing it repairs things, intangible things. Perhaps because it is so blue: a sky-mimicking blue, a sink-into-it blue, an eye-filling blue. Or maybe because of the sash, or the neckline's dive. It's just cotton, ordinary. But it hangs in the closet like a promise: whatever is happening, with this, today will be
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