November Fog

“An emptiness, this is what I remember”, said the girl, too young to have known what life can give you but also what it can take away.. “It’s hard, I miss him”, said that same girl, that same day of November, a year later. “I don’t want to cry, I don’t need to”, continued that girl, another year later, that same day of November. “I don’t dare to feel, it’s too painful”, confessed the girl, embarrassed, for being pushed to start a process that she was uncapable of doing. Five years later, when there were no other options, the pain had to get out, from every corner of the almost beaten body of that ice statue in what the girl had become. Another November and the girl collapsed, she started to feel all what she had blocked for fear it was too painful.

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