it feels wrong to be so untouched by it.
We all looked back at the morgue. Most of the cars had simple, narrow
wooden coffins on top of them, in anticipation of the son or daughter
or brother. One frenzied woman in a black abaya was struggling to make
her way inside, two relatives holding her back. A third man was
reaching up to untie the coffin tied to the top of their car.
i’ll post about fun things later… but sometimes, reality just creeps in. or crashes in. as it should.
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