Downy Grave

I walked into the bedroom, because a few minutes earlier, I thought I’d heard her wake up, and was about to make coffee, so I wanted to know if she’d like a cup. But I went in on tiptoe, because maybe she was still asleep, and had only rolled over, so the light coming in front the window wasn’t shining right into her eyes.

The blankets were piled up,  and all the pillows stacked in a way that make me think me of a tombstone. I heard quiet weeping, and saw the blankets move like the pile itself was breathing.

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