He picks white dog-hair up from her black, crumpled dress and places it strand-by-strand on her bare arm, staring as it stands against her transparent skin showing off an ugly maze of blue-green veins. She concentrates on cross-hairs formed by the creases on his forehead and tries to calibrate her thoughts to his. Hours of dog-hair and thoughts later, nothing is left, and exhausted, they wait to be shredded into wisps of nothingness too, in the evening sun.
Poignant, simple , simply beautiful !
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