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  • We were laying in my bed, his hand idling on my body.

    It was noon and the light and wind and noise were streaming through my window. It was Wednesday. Lunch break in bed, in the sun.

    At first, I thought it perfect. But through my head a song was wafting: Dead Hearts by the Stars.

    His fingers drummed along my collarbone. The inside of my head hummed, "They had lights inside their eyes."

    Moving up my neck, feeling my pulse. "They were kids that I once knew."

    Tracing my jawbone, running along my lips. "They moved forward and my heart died."

    Lightly on my closed eyes. "It's hard to know they're out there, it's hard to know that you still care."

    Through my hair, tangling. The light made it glow like ripe wheat. "Dead hearts are everywhere."

    And it hit me. I felt nothing. Except the great vastness in my chest that in previous times been filled with envy and rage and hope and love and desire. So much so that it often felt at a bursting point.

    But this.
    This was no great love.
    This was no great moment.

    And I am a quarter of the way through life.
    I am nearly out of time.

    My skin went cold under his fingers. I sat up, reached for my jeans.

    Faster, faster. Keep on moving.
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