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The building is white,ivy eating its way up the broken walls,windows smalland scratched.
She is not here.Not beside me in bednor in the roomat all.
It has happened
This is my story.It is mine alone because I am the one who needsto tell it.I am the one who is still here,no longer stage right but
I am on the bathroom floorscreeching,Tippi shaking me back into the world.