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The night envelopes me, wraps it's darkness around me like a glove on a cold hand and I fall deeper into the nothing.

I hear rain that doesn't fall, just the echoing memory of drops on my roof as I sit with a blanket on my lap, typing in the dark.

They keys stammer and stutter words onto the screen and every word I type brings me closer to your memory. To a story that wants to be told, though not precisely as it was, but wrapped, gilded, dressed up and made pretty.

Some memories are too precious to share. So I replay them in my head, then pack them up, wrapped in soft ribbons and hide them protectively in a small box inside my head, inside my heart.

And I keep on typing....

2008-11-03 8:34 p.m.