i think it was somewhere between the fifth roll of wrapping paper - i remember it had antlers on it and polka dots the color of blood - and the fourth discarded sweater (cashmere, the woman had said, hand knit. fifty dollars and when i walked past a thrift store it was there, an innocent clone on a weary hanger, price tag shouting three dollars fifty) that i thought, 'maybe this time.' and it was. i swear to you it was. i swear the mountain peaks were needles and the forest in my heart was burnt. // playlist for ramengirl.

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