separation
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The compass has not changed, but the road home has been bent, leaving a mother to wait while every room still points toward her boys.
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She scrubs, folds, and prepares every room as though order could bargain with the universe for the footsteps she is waiting to hear.
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Silence becomes its own language in the lingering glances, unfinished goodbyes, and distance that never teaches the heart to wander.
Between Bruises & Blooms 