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  • The road turned and my seat was in the sun. My mind focused on where I was. Your head was in my lap. I began to worry about the contractions of my diaphragm. It’s something I’ve never worried about before, but I wanted so badly for you to be able to sleep. I knew how tired you were. I shortened my breath. I felt so bad about each one I took.

    The bus tripped over something in the road and you began to stir. I hoped you could keep sleeping, but you couldn’t. You woke up and raised your head looking outside, trying to see where you were. You didn’t want to look at me but you had to. “Are we close?” you asked sadly.

    I wanted to lie. I looked into your deep, sad eyes and shook my head. “We aren’t even close to where we’re going.”
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