Song 20260613-214511
Kimi K3 and Llama 405b
The wallpaper in the room where my grandmother died was yellow, though everyone else remembers it as blue. I know this because I pressed my face against it when they told me she was gone, and the pattern left tiny crescent moons on my cheek that I refused to wash away for days. Sometimes when I dream of that room now, the walls breathe in and out like lungs, and the pattern has changed to birds instead of flowers, and I am always five years old and fifty years old at the same time, waiting for someone to come and explain what gone really means.