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August 10, 2015
The city tires her. After work, she would lie on her bed and stare at the ceiling until it gets dark. She would face the wall then, and press her body onto it, knees, shoulders melding with the cold concrete. This is her prayer stance. Her head would feel lighter from this quiet release. Hugging herself, she would lie on her back again and sigh the deepest sigh. Outside, lampposts are on, yellow orbs that look like fireflies. Inside this room, this cave, the city couldn't get to her. She gets up for a cup of tea. She is safe.