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This story


by James Lloyd Davis


       You do not read this story.  You must unfold it.
       This story was folded, origami-like and artfully by the delicate fingers of a delicate woman named Teruko for her lover on a cold night in December many years ago as he watched her lips and her eyes as though he would never see them again.
       This story was folded into the shape of a hummingbird, with a long, curved beak and cellophane wings that seemed to move if you looked closely, iridescent feathers that rippled with color in candlelight.
       This story was placed in a box made of balsa and presented to her lover who kept it with him for as long as he lived, who kept it secret for as long as he lived, who kept it with him wherever he traveled in his lifetime.
       This story cannot be read.  You must unfold it.


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