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And when she looked from her window into his receding image on the street outside, she thought of last night. How they slept together, entwined like two distressed snakes searching for a log to save them from drowning in their own little pools of sorrow. Before that they had made love with gusto, only to create ripples in the pools that were left uncared for, for long. Grief made its presence felt shortly after guilt.
She tore a page from the calendar on the wall. All the memories that got stuck there with wrinkles of dust on their foreheads, frowned at her. But she couldn’t care. she knew the difference between memories and garbage. At least she thought she knew.
He never came back. The pages of the calendar kept gathering more and more dust until one day when she discovered there were no more pages to tear. With the last page gone there was just a hollow mark on the wall, a pale reminder of a year gone by.

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