There was a tap that trickled in tune to the clock's wink. No, the tap wasn't weeping. It was struggling to hold in so much, so that hands could hold on to it. Whenever someone worked to fix, it leaked all the more. So, the moment arrived for it to wave goodbye to its wall, to its bucket and everything that accepted its fall. That day, it realised, it was replaced and I didn't leak a bit. Scales of salty past shed now and then, from within. All I do is lie on the bed with legs angled 90, like it.
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