Dark brown eyes open for the first time and wrinkled hands clutch her small body closely, weathered lips make empty promises.
Small hands are desperately reaching out into the unknown, grappling at cold air because he left.
No letters made of ink graced any page, no echoed voices rang through any phones, no old hands rang the doorbell.
Silence ensued.
Bright brown eyes fluttered open every day, and then again, until a she grew her wings and flew away to find herself.
Wise brown eyes couldn’t remember old wrinkled hands, but she knew of broken promises and that made her sad. Brown eyes were wet and red.
Brown eyes put ink to paper, put a letter in a bottle and sent it across the blue sea,
The bottle came back empty.

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