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Broken wall

April 8, 2009

One day we snuck off to an upstairs landing and sat against a tiled wall that hadn’t been properly glued. It all happened almost listlessly: Your face tensing, your eyes rolling to look above my head. The hunch of my shoulders as the tiles tumbled, corners and ceramic bouncing off my head as they careened floorward.

“We need to excise those ghosts that haunt you,” a friend said recently.

I disagree. I think the ghosts were trying to protect me, knocking the wall down in an effort to get me out of there alive. Thank you, ghosts.

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