Endless November

He said that we are now living in November. I was puzzled and said, ‘But we’ve already been living in November for quite some time.’

He paused and looked at me, not accusingly, not pityingly, but in the way one simply looks at another person. He laid his hand on my shoulder (his touch was far lighter than I could have imagined) and said, ‘A gaze full of longing lingers in endless November.’

And then he left, leaving behind only the dampness of November.


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