The cliffhanger at the end of a series and a series of pearls hitting a hardwood floor, ripping a new pair of tights, biting a jawbreaker in half, smirking, cicadas at midnight, the end of December and the middle of July, boots sinking into snow, dark shades of lace, pigtails, walking barefoot on a fur rug, sharpies, vacuum cleaners, bean bags, ballpoint pens, an owl’s coo, clues coming together, the uncomfortable-but-still-happy squint you do when a spotlight rolls over you at a concert, a mom cat, black licorice, Neptune colliding with Jupiter, the smell of an old book, caramel, caramel, caramel, the musk of incense, peppermints, sweet tea so hot it burns your tongue, zipping up a jacket, 12am on Christmas morning, mascara doodles on the counter and abstract art done in eyeliner, a guitar solo that lasts twenty-seconds-too-long, sour candy, moss, eggs hatching, taffy in a ziplock bag, comfort food, acetone, a necklace being fastened, a comic book studio, three different newscasts declaring a national state of emergency, the eerie blue shade of sky right before the sun comes up.
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