A hot week in New York. She tapes them shut and writes on them. He sits on the iron steps and doesn't turn around. We don't know their names. We don't know what happened.
If it was you, would you carry the boxes?
Strangers by HeartEvery lit window is a whole life.›
Strangers by Heart
Every night, one cigarette on the fire escape. Behind him, the room fills with boxes.
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