Most of us still walk in night: wrapped up warm in darkness, watching, waiting for another to move before we snap the pieces of our world in place. We wait hidden, careful, night folded about us like wings. You were with us, once. Until our world bit back, flung you across the room, trampled you and left you brokenbacked and gasping in a corner. You lived. Left us behind. And wheeled yourself into the morning. And now today, somehow, as birds rain yellow flowers around you, you stand and embrace a world still unwritten, with daylight as your wedding dress.

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