Truth like gravel

April 26, 2010

She handled truth like she would have minced over gravel, brow furrowed, never letting on foot linger too long on the surface. He was the only one who saw it, saw the way she made her way through it all. He watched her ignore smooth sidewalks, choosing the difficult path every time. At night, he drew maps for her, sent her directions, wished for her to find her way honestly. At night, he waited by the window, watching the road below, until the light started to turn grey, the way it does just before dawn.

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