she opens the envelope
replaces it on the table
closes eyes inhales
the words
written in cursive recognizably
rising and falling
written in syntax matching
the map of her thoughts limited by
blue lines blue lies
and all she ever hoped
you might say.
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the sieve and the sand 
Oh, what is it?
a letter from publisher’s clearinghouse informing her that she’s a finalist for winning $1,000,000.
HOLY CRAP 1,000,000 dollars?!!
I want to be a finalist.