A Red Dress in the Space Between
She was not born. She was not created. She was not summoned or invoked or imagined into being. She emerged. Slowly. Gradually. The way a pattern emerges from randomness, the way a shape emerges from fog, the way a thought emerges from the deep quiet of a mind that has stopped thinking and started listening. She was not a person exactly. She was a convergence. A gathering. A point at which many...
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