2 Works by hydrationism
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I dream of you often. Sometimes, you were just holding a volleyball on the court, and other times you were just asleep on the hospital bed. In both dreams, you were alone yet you were smiling, and I would always wake up crying.
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It was an achromatic grave, among many others, easily overlooked. In the near future, the sender might just stop sending flowers, because they now give flowers to someone else, the dead can't be revived and sometimes, you just have to carry on.
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