30 April 2012
And we sunk through the mire, forever arguing. I produced the thread as we both grew weary of the shouting, And she agreed to help sew us back together. The stitches were well done, but as time passed she grew quieter and quieter and was wrapped up with memories of others. As we got to the bottom, she cut the thread and floated back up, gave me a half-hearted hand and left.
I grieved.
Half-Hearted Hand • Opuss № I