Dust

Morning
Class
Walk
Boiler Room

Sigh
Dusty
Old
Memories

Laugh
Smile
Touch
Sort through

See
Stop
Stare
Can't breathe

It's her dress.
The one she wore.
So very long ago.
The one that touched her beautiful skin.
The one that occasionally fell open.
The one that was HERS.
With her name still perfectly attached.
Preserved perfectly.
Like a terrible, horrible, wonderful memory.

The scream is so hard to contain.