He destroyed her image

Today I thought about that Something between our lips that we both agreed was real but couldn’t define: some infinitely gentle thing that turned into a brutal truth. It had our number all along, didn’t it? Then the newness and strangeness of mutual absence. Untidy destinies, punctuated by images like rocks jutting out of the ocean. My memory’s like a camera — I don’t even remember your name anymore, just soft silent pictures, sequences, movements. I’ll delete them as soon as I can; I like to think it’s up to me.

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