A Solitary Digression

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Sand

Standing alone at the cliffside, I fill a bottle with sand.

Dust gleaming in the dying light, reflecting a hundred tiny suns.

I weigh the glass in my hand, solid and heavy and smooth like a piece of the morning.

Drawing back, I cast it overhand into the horizon, consigning it finally into the sea.

Every ounce of strength keeps me from diving after it in a panic, until it plummets silently from view.

Alone.

 

Let the sea bury it.

Let the sea bury us all.

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