At first there were moments when everything was fine. And then there were hours. Hours, even, when I knew that she was dead, and it was a sad, but bearable truth. And then it hit me again.
Tonight I am going to wear a pretty sparkly skirt that I think she would have liked. And when a swing song comes up, I will not search the room for her. I will dance it with someone else, and neither of us will be what the other really wants, but both of us will make do. We are all a little dull in comparison, a little slow.
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