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Stasis

November 6, 2009

There was nothing ordinary in her closet, which is why it was so hard to throw anything away. The dress made of wire and sea glass, the shoes made of impossible angles, a silk coat that changed color with the wind—each one is a memory, she thought.

She settled on the closet floor and wrapped herself in the coat. Somewhere on her street, a black dog barked. Somewhere in her city, a juice glass shattered on a tile floor.

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