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No. Mine. Title.

No.

It’s the only word I could say.

No and maybe something else. Maybe something small and meaningless. A name, a title, for sleep, for food, for comfort.

No, and maybe that small word and maybe a noise for attention. Maybe something loud and emotional. A sound, A scream, a bellowing of my own consciousness trapped by the chthonian lack of coordination I have only been able to witness second hand.

This is new, in my mouth you go. Doesn’t fit.

Yet something keeps coming back to me. A longing, a need for that something else I first mentioned. The comfort. Maybe just the food. The title.

No.

I keep saying that, but I don’t mean it now. Time to expand.

Mine.

It is. It’s mine.

Mine mine mine.

I don’t mean that though. It’s no one else’s but that’s not the thought I attempt to convey. The title, I need the title.

Wait.

She knows. Here she comes.

She passed me. Scream. Scream louder. It worked. Here she is. Yes, title, I do need food.

No.

I don’t need new coverings. Oh wait. that does feel better. I’m free to release this.

What’s wrong, title? You removed the barrier. Food now?

No.

Wait.

Mine.

Wait… yes, I remember…

Mama.

There it is. Mmmh… Now I rest.

100-300 words

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