I went to church for the first time last Sunday. The people there made me feel a warmth in my soul, just like my grandma had in the hospital. The children were present and there was a light in their eyes I have grown to miss in my own. One day, my dear Dion, I’d like a little cottage near the water. I want a few kids, no more than three, and I want us to teach them everything we should have known. My stomach cries for them. It’s hungry. But I won’t eat, because my mind is sick right now.
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But one day, with you, I will sit down for breakfast and finish it, and I won’t count the calories, and the sun will feel so warm against my skin as it trickles through the curtains, and I won’t notice the clock on the wall.
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