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A red chair, once a dowry, became a threshold.
That day, I learned another meaning of being a woman
to be at risk, simply for being one.
The nail polish spilled like memory:
on the floor, the swing, and me.
The ants knew.
They were the only ones who stayed.
She was drowning,
with her parents just a wall away.
Peace echoed from the next room
while silence buried her voice.
The hardest part?
They were so close
and yet they never knew.
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