So I avoid the cracks I step inside the squares, the rectangles, the slivers of triangles, the shapes without names. I bring myself into a comfortable rhythm foot flat against flat ground. Focus spent on tiles beneath my feet.
Then I see them another pair another with similar wear and tear and I stutter in my step I sway and sputter until I find the unfamiliar: uneven pavement rings sickness in my stomach and an ache in mum’s back.
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