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His breath catches in his throat because that he remembers. She has to be almost as old as he is, but unlike him, her age shows in the bend in her back and the creases in her face. He remembers thin wrists clothed in rags and numbers and sticks that had once been people held together with paper thin skin. A strong enough gust and they would shatter and fall apart and turn to dust. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears and he takes her hand in his, it’s warm and slender. Her fingers wrap around his and hold on in a way the twigs never could. He doesn’t recognize her but he knows what she was.
- Part 1 of so carry my ache