I was looking for my sketchpad and accidentally found a book with some of Her poetry. I didn't mean to. It was hidden behind one of the boxes I put in a cupboard without unpacking -- which, of course, was filled to the brim with satin warm toned expired photography paper and notes about masculinity vs femininity. I thought it was an old 90's calendar based on the panoramic shape & large white plastic spiraled binding. I was going to flip through for some laughs, but there, on the left page was Her name boldly printed beneath a piece of poetry. My blood rushed. I could feel the tips of my fingers buzzing & slowly swelling into a red pulse with each. My heart beats in the rhythm of Her words. When she gets home, I will hold my hand on her cheek and thank her for existing.