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Something absurd had changed. I felt it in the palm of my hand, glistening from my previous shower five minutes ago. I had dreamt of snakes, sliding between cracks behind the doors of my eyes, hanged men and naked women clothing themselves with their hair. Absurdity never moved me. The real world, fruitless and tiresome, that, that hit such a spot. Just put your hands on me. I dared the mirror, the keyboard from the other room with the ridiculous old computer, typing away on its own. I first saw you in all the places you weren't supposed to be. Put your hands on me, I had offered some times before.

I once knew a little boy who offered an equal hand, and I wouldn't care less if he was to turn 100 one day. He'll always be 5 to me.

So I took his hand or he took mine, I led him through a maze of years and then he led me through a forest of fires. Put your hands on my heart. Certain things that will make sense no matter what. And at some point I realized that the shine of his bluish eyes against voices deaf to his ears would make it so. I saw that he moved like sunshine, touching the hands of all.

Something absurd comes into place. Trickles down like a reminder, like the green sweater with silver pearls that my mother once wore two decades ago and I found in the basement. A soft voice trapped in fabric still, forever slumbering. Your hands on me. Just put your hands on me. Something so absurd it cannot provoke any tears, something so silent it cannot call upon deceit. These memories you can never take.

And then, my brother, drunk and sitting on the bed next to me while I observe him with a smile. You're like a strong and large tree all alone on a steel mountain. Some whispered words in another language, they are. Upon the next day, a memory torched with pain. Gone. But I know what I am. He says I haven't changed, only grown.

I trail his glittering wings up to a halt on the sky, a forgotten star. My heart of shadows follows.

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