My head lay on the table.
Tears driped from my buring cheeks.
My eyes looked at the blury representation of my kitchen.

She walked in.
I did not hear her,
but I knew she existed
and I knew she was watching.

Her hand went over my tattered hair,
And she set a small ginger cookie on the table.
I looked up and comfirmed my instinct.

I looked at her,
Eyes still blurry,
Ever knowing the healing power of a cookie.

Thanks mom.

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