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Friction and impact

August 4, 2010

She awoke from dreams of the heat generated by grooved wheels on rails. It had been seven days since he’d left, and she lay very still, her palms pressed to the mattress at either side of her body. She had once been the kind of woman who leapt from bed and got on with her day, but lately, she felt as if the day dragged her along behind it like something caught on its undercarriage, her skin burned by friction, bruised by impact.

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