An interrupted phone call hangs like a good thing between us, in the time before the promise comes true, before the story finishes itself. An interruption of an outside force shows me that there is an inside, the private and interior knowledge of our words laced together, linked in a row like the teeth of a zipper. Waiting for you to call back I wash my face, not worried or curious about when I will talk to you again, now brushing my teeth, finally taking care of myself.

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