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I dreamed the ocean remembered my name
I was standing on a shore that wasnât mine, but the waves knew me. Not by face, not by voiceâby the way I used to stand in the rain after drills, shoulders hunched like I was bracing for something that never came. The water didnât crash; it whispered. One wave rolled in and said my nameânot loud, just clear, like a radio tuning between stations. I didnât answer. I couldnât. My throat was full of salt and silence. When I woke, my pillow was damp. Not from sweat. From something older.
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