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The Early Show I know why you were there your blue shirt and awkward graying hair said almost as much as the wall of silence you wore, and the waves of fear that rippled out away from you, stony, careful. I could hear you preparing your reasons for the leaders of an inquisition that would not come. Leaning away from my friends I watched it unravel my purple scarf winding around my neck, wrapping around my hands, bandages. Slumped down, I wept as each page turned, snapshots: the phone call, the confusion, the deliberate look, the clumsy weakness, the need a gaping hole. Someone's water bottle squeaked. I turned and cowered: thirsty strangers were drinking me in, ants wading through discarded meat. When it was over you stood on the steps, staring at the picture a look like no oxygen, implosion, that shame. You struggled against the tremendous gust of nothing that forced its way back inside of you, as it had not done with me. I wanted to tell you I knew: to scare you, or maybe to comfort you. I wanted to ask you if he’s sorry.
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