I’m Not There

I dreamt that I was at the beach house and I was standing in the corner where the shoe rack is by the front door. You were over by the sink washing some dishes, getting ready to make dinner. You turned your head around toward me looking sad. But you didn’t see me. You couldn’t see me. Cause I’m not there anymore. I walked over beside you quietly and opened the cupboard, pulled out a bowl gently, watching your face as you ran your hands under the water. I was making food now too. But you still didn’t know I was there. Then I woke up.

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