eighty-eight

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         Did you know: nurses take lunch breaks, too?

      And, while Ms. Fren went out for a tuna sandwich, I slid down the hospital hall, walking amongst the ghosts, until I reached your room, and, with a turn of a knob, I stepped inside, the sound of a beeping monitor to greet me.

         You were asleep. 

         Lashes on cheeks.

         Lips apart. 

         Nose flared.

       If beauty was measured in stars, you’d be a supernova, burning up my world in the blink of an eye.

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