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the pact

Don’t worry, baby. It’s a long while yet (He said) Would you rather it be sudden, or protracted and storied? Either way, I’ll oblige. Dignity. Yes we must have it. No blubbering, quivering, or hand holding. Just close the door. Snick the lock. I’ll set an alarm.

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The house that Jill built

A house she built, nested inside the one they bought. It’s been long in its building, with slow accretions wrung from unshed tears. A desperation. A resignation. It has gift boxes, unwanted. Empty bowls and jars on brazen display, meant to catch a beautiful rain that never came.

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