She couldn't wait to get to that bed. It was there that blankets and pillows nestled her in while comfort stripped off every temporal emotion that wrapped her body and bound her core throughout the day. There was so much to be undone that she wasn't aware of how much she needed this rest. And so she lay down and her head pressed upon the pillows and her arms pulled the blankets soft and consuming over her body and already the tears were there.
They had become like snowflakes to her, every one different than the ones that had come before. These teardrops were wet and heavy. They made puddles in the curves between her eyes and her cheeks. Their depth so great they couldn't be wiped away, couldn't be taken by the habit of her hands. They were meant to sink through her skin and and return to her core from which they had come. And so she shut her eyes with those tears resting wet and heavy.
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