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The quay remembers every step she did not take. Two lamps keep the hour like a secret they agreed to keep. Her hat is a second sky, too wide for this small leaving. The suitcase is the color of a letter never sealed. Carry the last light, carry it lightly. The water has no name for going or staying Cosmos lean in, they have been waiting. She walks the thin place where the day forgets itself. A blue bird holds still among the fading stems. As if it knows the weight of what she will not say. The dress drinks the violet the sky no longer needs. And the path keeps offering itself, stone after stone. Carry the last light, carry it lightly. The water has no name for going or staying. Cosmos lean in, they have been waiting She walks the thin place where the day forgets itself. If the case were opened now. Only dusk would spill out. Only the sound of a ribbon. And one unspent hour. The lamps do not follow. The flowers do not ask. She is already the color. Of the place she is walking toward.