The Girl Who Could Float.
Her name was Effine and it seemed several sunrises had passed my notice
since she had left. The sheets had scarcely settled back into place, and she
was gone. People who know how to look can divine many things from a bedsheet
and how it comes to rest. That morning I awoke bleary, jumble eyed, and
breath jam thickened to her vapors and her hair across my face. That was my
goodbye, it always was.
With the stars in her ears and the moon rolled between fingers she made
passage beyond northern shores. Effine liked to steal away on Russian
frieighters that navigated by gumdrop mythology and chalk dust.
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