she stared
at the wallet in front of her.
it wasn’t there an hour ago.
straining, she looked the other way.
scuffled to leave the snoring figure
of the stranger beside her.
but she remembered him
the man she had known well enough
to love, to hate, and wish to die.
because once, a daughter
had found herself stripped
learning the order of fake sleep.
but now,
ten years of confused reverence past,
he needed her.
then, she looked again.
...published
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