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A December's Sunday Blues
rightwritecj: It is Sunday and I am missing the woman who was next to me in bed. I was cold but she was warm and then I foolishly left. Be brave, she said, and come back soon to my bed. The church wasn’t playing music: I heard my elegy instead. I can’t glean the purpose of this December. In January I will search for whatever memories I can remember. I was cold on a Sunday and I wish I had never...