Remember me naked
She laughs, sits across from me, her eyes shining.
— The one where we wanted to make pancakes at midnight, and your father caught us in the other family. We had flour everywhere. Even on the ceiling. Do you remember?
I look at her.
Nothing.
The void.
She continues, animated, shows me a photo on her phone: the two of us, covered in white powder, laughing until we cried.
I’m wearing the same dress as today, or almost.
But that face has nothing to do with the one I feel now.
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