There's an itch, a growl slowly creeping overhead today, an old familiar friend I've been missing. My hands tremble at the thought but I'm careful, if I reach too soon I'll lose it. If I scratch too anxiously, I'll damage it. Feed it too much too fast and it'll burst. I try not to swell with a hopeful longing, it's been fleeting and fickle for so long, this time like all the others there's no guarantee. I'm owed nothing.
But I do need this, maybe more than ever.
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