Unbroken.
“I feel broken,” she whispered.
“I feel like someone needs to glue me back together.”
Her voice trembled. Her body folded in on itself like it had forgotten how to hold its own weight.
I nodded. Not because I agreed, but because I remembered. The collapse. The ache. The illusion that something inside has shattered beyond repair. But it is not true. We are not broken. We break, yes.
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