( somewhere in antiva with a white anemone pressed between the pages of a poetry book she'd packed in her things, gwenaΓ«lle (who is sentimental in ways she's rarely given credit for) is quiet for a long time. )
We were separated. At the time. And now, actually, so it's not asβ
(I'm not angry, she'd told alexandrie, and then in the same breath crumpled in her arms. )
It's not as simple. As I made it sound.
( except for the part where her heart broke; that is remarkably, breathtakingly, unfairly straightforward. )
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We were separated. At the time. And now, actually, so it's not asβ
( I'm not angry, she'd told alexandrie, and then in the same breath crumpled in her arms. )
It's not as simple. As I made it sound.
( except for the part where her heart broke; that is remarkably, breathtakingly, unfairly straightforward. )