On a desk there sits a cup, where once two could be found.
Two cups, four hands, steam rising into the air alongside laughter and voices, a cluttered desk, and a bed full of warmth.
A bed, formerly of two pillows, now only of one.
All that's left to be doubled is space. All without a single wall having been knocked down.
Two cups.
Bare walls.
And no sleep.
Fountain of Youth
13 years ago
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