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it always goes away

I hide in the shadows, behind a row of pews, and listen to Low rehearse in a church late one winter night. I have a treasure map. X marks the spot in the church attic. I creep up the creaky stairs and discover a stack of Philip K. Dick novels. Low rehearsing in the warm light below. "She used to let me cut her hair." All the old people meet for coffee and pastries in the meeting hall. They look so ancient and timeless and full of joy. I'll never live to be as young as they are. An Asian woman in a blue gown invites me to dance in the courtyard outside. I want this evening to last a little longer--before I have to go back into the night, looking over my shoulder at a church that is dark and empty.

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