Another day. Another parade of chores and choices I'll mistake for mine. Hours passed inside the Dawn suit bring fatigue from overuse of muscles both physical and cerebral, hunger for what's just out of reach, and laughter when I'm lucky. Mop the floor, make love, mourn the lost––a creature of habit, I embrace one instant, lean away from the next. But every now and then, glimpsed from a vantage point burned clear of fog, I no longer want to pick and choose. Every now and then, it's enough that each moment unfolds, fulfills its promise and flies into eternity.
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