Zoe Eyes burn scant inches from the glass, my voice is hoarse. I don’t manage to explain it the first few times, instead gulp and blink dazedly at a world untouched by the heat and pain I’d stepped away from. It wasn’t a balm – instead an earlier time, and I knew it. Even if I didn’t believe. Even if I thought it was a fever dream – that I’d come down with another bad infection and I was lying in a hospital bed, or against a thick leaded pain of glass in the ward, my hands draped lifelessly…
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