Time tugs at the heart with a soft thread attached only by common experiences and shared memories to someone too-long a stranger.

Whether attached to the living or the dead, those strings have a beginning and an end – there is always someone there. So when time tugs, tired of our indifference towards the person we no longer see at the end of a distant thread, pick it up anyway, tug along, and you will always find that the person on the other side tugs along with you.

We are all strung, you and I, to distant made-strangers we once loved and should care for again. Little sense is made of cutting ties when we are wholly dependent upon them; when life thus strung to strangers by soft strings is made strong through common experience and is the very thing that keeps our hearts beating.

A tug is a beat, a beat is a person we loved; time tugs, hearts work, and our lives continue on.

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