Literature
Finding Ira
She was the blue twin, and I was the pink.
That’s the way it always was, before.
Even now, I can’t help but notice her casket, made of biodegradable wood and finished in dark blue. Later today, the casket will be in the ground, and however much of the wood will be in however many bacteria, and before long the coffin itself will be gone, and Ira will be dead in a way she wasn’t before.
I see you from the other side of the room. You’re still crying, but I don’t mind. I was the first to cry for her; this is a lucid dream after a very stressful day. But to you, everything’s different; today is as real as every
