Lillie Wooten
I haven’t taken it off. Not once, and I don’t know if I ever can.
It’s been 24 hours 19 minutes and 55 (56, 57) seconds since she’s left. 30 hours 23 minutes and 30 (31, 32) seconds since I’ve put on that sweater.
Since then I have been burning, the heat has overtook me. But still, I really don’t think I can take it off.
She is the one who ever so generously told me to put it on, even though she was angry with me. “Dont forget to bring your coat!” She yelled as I swiftly ran past her to the front door.
Of course, I did forget. Walked out the door without it and everything. But she knows me well enough that she checked my room and grabbed it on her way out. It’s like she knew I’d somehow forget.
I wouldn’t have even noticed that I had forgotten it if she didn’t ever so carefully drape it over my shoulders as we were walking. Allowing the warmth to overtake me, and I then knew what I had truly forgotten. “I’m sorry mom” And– still I say it now. “I’m sorry mom” “I’m sorry, mom”
“I am sorry, mom.”
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