Page 135 - DivineSparkRising II-TheMirrorofSilenceFinal

Nicholas Boothman
in the green of old hospitals, crates from decades
that had learned to rust patiently. The air vibrated
under the audible — the kind of thrumming one
thinks is blood until the floor shivers in sympathy.
Carolina pulled a drawer. Inside were index
cards sorted by hand: phrases inked in precise
script, each followed by a date and a city and a red
stamp: ERASED, EDITED, RETURNED. She read
one at random, then another, then another. Her face
changed the way faces change when they realize
grief is bigger than a person.
“People mailed their lost words here,” Henry
said, realizing as he spoke that it was true. “To keep
them somewhere.”
He lifted a card. The smell when the first rain
hits hot dirt. Morocco, 1994. ERASED. Another: The
way my mother said my name when she forgave
me. Recife, 2007. EDITED. Another: The courage to
leave when I stayed. Manila, 2019. RETURNED.
Sera’s hum folded around the stacks. The
thrumming beneath the hearing shifted as if a choir
two rooms over had turned pages.
Carolina touched a filing cabinet labeled TO SAY
LATER. Inside: handwritten drafts — letters to
lovers never sent, speeches abandoned, apologies
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