#359: Porcelain
July 30, 2014

I remember anger but I don't remember why. I remember how it feels in my chest as you took my hand and we ran. The hills sloped down so far we couldn't see where we were going. For a second I thought we couldn't stop even if we wanted to�and we would plunge to infinity. For a second you thought that too.

The winds would slap mercilessly on our faces but we didn't cared. Maybe it was that. Or maybe it was your grip. I remember the anger being squeezed out of me, and you wouldn't let go.

Sometimes my eyes would fool me. The grass would appear soft and inviting. The flowers would turn into blurred white spots. Sometimes I thought we were running on clouds. Then I wasn't so scared if we did fall.

But you stopped. We stopped at the edge of the fields and looked down. We were so far away but we could see in perfect clarity everything that everyone was doing. From behind, you placed your hands on my shoulders as I cried.

1:11 a.m.

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