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The day after

There’s a sick feeling, a stone, in my gut. My intestines twist into knots. I can barely hold up my head, hold open my eyes, hold down my breakfast, hold in my shattered heart. My bones quiver. My skin feels dead. I try not to think, wandering in a Novocaine daze. I cannot fathom… Outside, the day is full of sunlight. The air sparkles. My little dog leaps for his ball just like any other day. The trees bobble in the breeze as if smoke never floated over Auschwitz, as if slaves never screamed under the lash, as if yesterday didn’t happen. Am I being overly dramatic? God, I hope so. If someone breaks into your house and steals your belongings, it doesn’t destroy your life. You may be hurt, an

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