My room was no sanctuary, and I cried myself to sleep again, half dressed because I couldn't bring myself to have skin touch where skin had lain. And the water bottle he'd drunk out of was still there beside my bed, a quarter of its contents remaining. I slept then and dreams came, but I didn't dream ...of him, and when I awoke I felt guilt ridden and jealous. But I did not cry. All my tears were gone.
But my fingers tell truth more easily than the rest of my body does. My tongue likes the taste of lies too much to ever give up on them.
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