I found a basket of strawberries molding in my fridge this morning and when I went to throw them away, I just couldn’t. They made me wonder where you are now, Strawberry, and how things are. So now there’s black slowly creeping across mushy red blobs as they sit on my kitchen counter screaming that you miss me. They are staring at me with wild hair and bloodshot eyes like you used to. Strawberry, I don’t think it’s clear enough yet, but I miss you.
P.s. You haven’t started to rot already, have you?
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