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You Just Know You don’t always know how you know. You just know. It comes slowly, the awareness. With the certainty and final resignation of a child learning there’s no Santa Clause, you just know. The breakfast table, once a venue for long, dreamy stares and coffee-flavored kisses, becomes a silent stage for reading the news and eating breakfast, and you just know. The smell of his shirt when you’d bury your face there, the feel of his hands on your body as if they had a life of their own all slip silently to a place wherever memories go to gather dust, and you just know. You miss the nights, how his body and yours breathed and moved as one. Maybe it’s those nights and how they were, that give the knowing life, and you just know. Like ocean waves upon the sand, love recedes with all the other yesterdays and you would trade all your tomorrows to have it back, but you just know. . |
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