real

there was never anything real.

just the way the cicadas chirped at me through the windows.
just the wind against my skin.
just my cat massaging my chest with her purrs.
just the beating of my heart.

but there was never anything real.

Alexander Andrade

part-time writer, full-time waiter

inquiries: alexleeandrade@gmail.com

@tecolotesweet

https://tecolotesweet.com
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