She was (a Fictional Moment 16)

Bloom’n could say all day long just exactly what she was.

But what she really wanted to know from you is…

did it matter to you one whit at all what Bloom’n was.

Or did it matter — in fact, more to the heart of the matter to you and to your notion of relationship and friendship — what Bloom’n purely, simply, complexly, ugly-ly, beautfiully-ly, unperfectly, truly, really…

is…

(and all of it unencumbered by all of the sideways dance that is the infamous “it is what it is” bullshit, by the way…)

Nothing is static.

Not even our massive attempts to hold time still.

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