I re-read your letters in which you beg for me. You want nothing more than me, completely; the one thing I cannot give.
The letters pile up on my desk; the pile shifts and tumbles into the garbage can.
"What are these?" he asks, but I wave my hand in a belittling manner, and he takes them away.
They're sitting at the curb now, waiting to be picked up. I don't think he would read them.
76 words
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