If Katy were a color. If Trace were a sickness. If I were a vessel. If a chair were chairness. Keep it going. Decode, then:
Romance is a big black puppy, sleek and grinning, bursting with play.
94 is the static concrete number of the wire along which our kinetic impulses travel.
To execute each next, uncertain step in our chosen dance we must listen closely through one another. We learn to move like waves, doubling back on ourselves; a restrained, perpetual invitation.
Trust is a watchful toothbrush.
A promise is sometimes a balloon, tied with a string ring.
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