scribblechic

This morning my daughter nestled on the stairway, dressed for the day but hidden beneath a tangled curtain of hair; shoulders draped over a paperback book and tiptoes curling her frame against the hands of time. My mind on the clock, but heart in my throat, I left her to linger over the last pages of her story in the dwindling minutes before school; each of us lost to a moment in time.

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