Reluctantly, Alice admitted to herself that she had forgotten how it felt to hold a clump of soil in her hand. It had been slowly slipping away for days by that point, and the harder she worked to freeze the feeling in her mind, the more it faded. She would have rubbed her fingertips together to jog her memory, to remind her senses of the feeling of digging into the earth and letting the summer dirt move between her fingers, if she could have moved them at all. Alice stared ahead.
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