She’d let go, she said, as though finally giving in to what we knew had been months of begging, anger, and finally, an ultimatum, was a matter of allowing herself to fall. Now we needed gravity to be on our side. We checked her bike helmet, then placed our fingertips beneath her, all of us giddy on sisterhood and stolen vodka. "Lift her up, she’s as light as a feather," we intoned, kneeling on our circled sleeping bags. Rising slowly, we chanted, lifting her high before we let go. We’d have an answer by morning, stay with her all night.
Sue Clayton
1/8/2022 08:20:43 am
Interesting. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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