New work up at 101 Word Story

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Fifteen years later, I see him again. In the green, wet world of rain. We wear sandals, our toes damp and plump. His mouth is the only thing dry.

We’re older now, and ruined. Our words spit scabs, salt cutting tongues. Such is love, in the now, in the future of our perfect selves.

Read the rest here at 101 Word Story.

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