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Fridge Pieces

I keep getting these memories. Like when we used to lay in my bed and reach our arms up, slowly touching each finger tip. And it never hurt. We never forced our fingertips, but they were strangely stuck together. As if they were magnets in our hands that we were unaware of. And then I remember how months later as we sat quietly watching the television, you asked me why our fingertips haven't come together for a bit of time. And I told you they have, but you simple said, "but it is not the same". As if my touch wasn't my touch anymore. Like the magnets have turned into weights that were becoming a hassle to lift. And after you left me, I felt relieved. As if the weights in my fingers had disappeared and I wasn't struggling as much as I was. The pain in my muscles had subsided. But that's when I realized it. The magnets had not become weights, but were rather gaining weight and tiring out. They were once magnets that fascinated you in science class, but had turned into fridge pieces that slowly fell inch by inch everyday, working to hold up a picture of youth or accomplishments. And we let them fall. We gave up. You gave up. And now that you are gone, my fingers have not been working as hard. The weight has fallen and I long for your touch. I need your touch.

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