I step out onto the patio and watch the sun slide behind the barn across the road. The bronze highlights the unshaved gray-rooted hairs on my arms. I sit on the left cushion of the wicker loveseat, then inch slowly, tentatively, into the caved-in spot on the right. The geese form a V above me, and I wish they’d carry me on their backs to a home that feels like one, that doesn’t belong to just one.
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