Human beings are beautiful, beautiful tragedies.
In the wake of a new day I looked over his body. The sun light scared his skin golden and orange where it once was pale. All the colours of dusk. The warmth made him turn over, retreating into the shadows of my bookshelves.
On the morning train a child that couldn't see or speak, that was in a wheelchair smiled in the direction of a baby's laughter. I looked up from my book and at the baby, thankful that I could see its sparkling eyes matching the emotions of its turned up lips.
Happiness hid in its dimples, what a beautiful thing to see.
The mother of the child in the wheelchair also looked at the baby, then looked at her baby. I kept reading.
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