He sliced the brown envelope
back and forth between his fingers
until it caught on his skin
and tore it clean open,
watched as red oozed from the papercut,
slow at first,
and formed a pool in his palm,
its sting dancing through his inside.
It was an impossible love
that consumed all he was.
He heard the sound of next door's telephone
and counted the rings.
There were seven.
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