I Don't Have a Name for My MoodBiju
I don't understand these moments, opportunities go past me in a haze while I stumble for the words to give me air. He hasn't moved in an hour, maybe it was wrong of me to have stood over him making certain that he had stopped breathing, but I assumed for no reason that he would come alive and begin again. I don't recognize this feeling in me, whether it's relief or joy, or simple exhaustion; I don't have a name for my mood. I should've kept the coffee warm, I would at least have that to hold. I should turn off the TV and lay down to sleep. But this chair of his is quite cozy, and I don't want to put down the gun just in case.
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