Time heals the heart.

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Soy de luz y sombra.

I sat at the bus stop exhausted, eyelids blanketing dried contact lenses while ignoring all the children in the background calling my name for the infinite time. Don’t get me wrong, I was very thankful to have earned the love of a hundred 11 year olds — my heart had never been so full — but sometimes at 4:00 on a Monday afternoon after a full day of work, love is better from a distance.

I heard a rapid pounding against the pavement, it reverberated against my eardrums, followed by a gust of wind that slapped my bangs across my face. The tip of my fingers snaked across my head, pushing my hair out of my now opened eyes — and there you were, out of breath and bending over, hands propping you up on your knees, a waterfall of golden brown hair hiding your face.

I looked to the…

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