Every morning you swallow a coin from your bedside table. This activates a claw inside your abdomen that you maneuver over a bin full of good feelings.
You reach for hope. It dangles from the end for a moment and then falls back in.
"Maybe tomorrow," you say. But you don't believe it.
You reach for hope. It dangles from the end for a moment and then falls back in.
"Maybe tomorrow," you say. But you don't believe it.
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