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The Dime
At night I steal my boyfriend's heat. Two forms, anything but still in slumber, occasional collision, kinetic to heat and my body draws it deep. My body lives off his heat now. But it does not last long. A few hours after I get up, truly peel myself from the bed where I hide, my body runs out of it's stolen heat, and I am overcome with chills. This paints my day frigid, keeps me from the perceived artic outdoors, and reinforces my hermitage.

Slowly, my body tries to recall how to make it's own heat. It struggles, a lot, it is too tall for the cold, and doesn't know where to put it on sapling frame once it's made. My body remembers heat well, but cannot mimic the simple act of staying warm alone.


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