just until the end of the chapter

armchair worn down in all the right places
corners of blanket curled around tongue like and hugging
pillows precisely placed
quiet, oh so quiet
and still

bubble of lamplight moored to the windowsill
the clock ticking
2, 3
the pages turning
2, 3
the years passing
2, 3

old friends stacked up in dusty corners
I remember when

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