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The Death of a Young Woman
It's been almost ten years since I first started dreaming about the deaths of others, seeing those awful veins crawling into them. Every night I watch as they sneak up and into throats about to choke on blood or... urging into hearts about to convulse. It was subtle at first. So quick I could pretend I hadn't seen. Just a second, then wept over the face of a drunk old man stumbling into his car. A chain smoker ex hails. And just for a second I catch one dangling from his mouth before it slivers back inside. Crossing a bridge and I might see one snaking along the road and over towards the railing. But I don't really think he