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  • This is the only picture I have left of her. The others are all lost to digital decay.

    That night we'd been to a concert together and there, in the safety of the dark, I pretended to take a picture of the band just so I could steal one from her.

    We had been separated for already 3 years at that time. Lived on different continents. Had known other people. Yet in my dreams still she lingered.

    So when I saw her that night, it felt both as if centuries and mere minutes had passed since we last kissed.

    And in her eyes, something I couldn't say.

    Our evening went on undisturbed, on our best behaviour. She didn't suggest… I didn't… We…

    A few days later her I left her town to go back to my country. She sent me an email in the late hours of her night - by then I was high above the Atlantic. Her message said she had missed me, and would still do. It had the vulnerability of a confession in the dead of night, these things you whisper when no one can see you, as if darkness made the secret safe.

    It was not a message someone writes to "just a friend".

    I wish I would have found then the words to make it all start again.
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