An average day of life with ulcerative colitis cannot be explained by all of the Oxford English Dictionary words, or squished between cascading columns of commas on a blank page.
Each day is like an unopened fortune cookie with a paper-thin prophecy crammed safely inside the shell, just waiting to be unlocked.
Poetry aside, the future is not as permanent or material as a lukewarm fortune cookie waiting on top of the receipt at the end of a hot meal.
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