The desert rains. He writes from across the state to see that you're still there, you write from across the table to make sure the dreams you built together still gleam. All you wanted were starlit nights.
Fall arrives, the nights are cold but the days are sunny enough for you to believe in a day after this one. You begin to recognize the blood coursing in your veins again: the impatience, the itch to go, the little sparks of creativity zipping just past your line of vision.
Fall arrives.
You vow to let it mean something new at last can begin.
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