Youth
Everything tastes like black licorice.The window sticks.The cold metal of my watchadjusts to warmthby just this contactwith my arm.The symmetryof clock tower and hospitaldisorients me looking downafter the elevator opensto another windownot just stuck but sealed shutfor our safety.In the waiting roomthe carpet pattern swirlswith violet and redwhile a woman taps a cigaretteinto a soda […]
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