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Round and round and round and round and round.

I’m on the tilt-a-whirl at the fair.
It’s a still summer night.
I throw my head back
Giggling.

I picture this image as I sit,
Waiting for you to call.

And the phone doesn’t ring
And doesn’t ring
And doesn’t ring.

I make my way out of bed
Not even fumbling for the light switch.
It’s late evening, and my palms are sweaty.

My head spins like I’ve been on a rollercoaster.

I look in the mirror
And see skin white as a sheet,
Eyes bloodshot,
Lips cracked.

I fumble back to bed.

The phone still doesn’t ring.

14 minutes later,
a text: sorry, I’ve been out all day.

“Hey!! It’s okay haha, I’m sure you were busy. How was your day?”

Delivered.

Read.

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