That’s not what we wanted.

Three quarters of the way through we reached up our hands to stop everything but by then it was too late, by then things had been set in motion and there was nothing but a Sisyphusian sigh and the memories of what we had and the knowledge that what was to come might not fit into the photo frame, might not look the same under these new conditions, and now that you mention it yes our hands look bonier and the knuckles not so plush, but that’s not what we meant when we said we were growing up, that’s not what we wanted when we wanted something at all. 

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