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Reach.

--Original caption story--

 

The flowering tree branches were just beyond her reach. She pressed her rail thin body deeper into the bars of the window, fingers nearly coming undone at the joints as she willed them to stretch further. A blossom brushed the tip of her forefinger, then it danced away as the wind swept by. It wanted to play catch-me-if-you-can, and she longed to play with it, if she hadn’t already been caught. The warming wind off the sweat soaked fields loosened the petals. They fell to earth like tears. She relaxed and rubbed her raw collarbone. The wind swept into her, then out of her all at once. Yet another springtime without her.

 

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Uploaded on April 9, 2021
Taken on April 16, 2015