I regarded the small crevices and intricate lines across the tips of my fingers and thought, “I am alive. If nothing else, and quite possibly especially then, I am alive.”

Why am I suddenly attentive and preoccupied with the blood infusing my body, taking reign over and through my veins? Why does the fractured sunlight falling across my face seem to be absorbed by my very being?

The moment rises and falls too quickly for me to grasp, and I instinctively want it back. I need to taste it once more, remind myself it was real. Ethereal.



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