Sometimes it seems impossible to break into the open container that holds emotions
that have shook you to the core and back. The lock is open, but the contents just
don’t cooperate. The soul is willing but the physical emotions hold you back
with arms of tempered titanium. It appears as a web, formed by concerned neglect and time, fear and longing. A cold, silver shine creeps into a heart. It could be all you think about, but not what you act upon. It could be something you attempt to act upon but inauthentically or in an innocent, uninformed manner.
Then the phone rings
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