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  • Amy was a striking girl for a fourth grader, with long dark brown hair, steely blue eyes and a killer smile. I crushed on her big time when I heard her singing voice during "It's a Grand Old Flag" and "Fifty Nifty". Since we sat next to each other in class, and as I spoke to her nearly every single day (sometimes no more than a "Hello"), that qualified her as my girlfriend. I didn't share this with her but, in my mind, we had years of blissful love ahead of us.

    She went to St. Luke's church at the end of the strip in Foster City. We would attend Mass at the same time every once in a while; my eyes and mind would drift to her. I dreamed that someday her parents would send her to CCD through the Church, because my mom taught catechism for a short while and that would give me an excuse to have Amy over to my apartment, where the sessions were held.

    As Amy was my girlfriend, I knew she needed a ring. I stole one from my mom's jewelry box. It took me three days to give it to her.

    Eventually, I gathered up my courage and handed the ring to Amy. No fanfare. Not even a word of explanation. Simply me handing this little girl an old ring. I don't think she knew what to say. She didn't thank me.

    The fact that she had the ring just made everything awkward, at least for me. One night soon after, I had a dream that she and her extended family were werewolves, a malevolent force hellbent on taking over our Church and our town.

    About a week later, she returned the ring. My diary entry for that day says, simply, "Today, I broke up with Amy."
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