most mornings i wake up to a piece of fruit on my bedside table. this morning was no different. i can hear thunder in the distance, and everything outside my window is this deep shade of blue that makes me think about your eyes. there's baby's breath resting on the foot of my bed. it's nice to feel the weight of something in my bed other than you. i watched the towels spin in their places as they hung in the window. they were supposed to be drying, but the morning rain had soaked them. i laid in my white underwear that i had bought from the supermarket because i liked the frills along the bottom. the fan blew my hair, making it stick to my face, and i thought about the way it feels to miss something you can't have, and how this will all be over soon. 

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