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  • If I could pick one thing to do for the rest of my life, it would be talking with him. I would choose that even though I've read many Anne Rice vampire novels and know how long eternity can be when faced with the prospect of one companion. But I don't want eternity, just one lifetime of conversation with him.

    He lives on the other side of the world. We email. It's terrible. I send long, detailed stories of the world that I see and my role in it. Complicated stories. Pretty stories. Textured and colored and often funny stories wrapped up with strips of my soul. He responds when and if he finds the time. Every day for a week and then not at all for three.

    Actually, he doesn't respond, not to the things that I've written, the stories I've told, the questions I've asked. He writes when it occurs to him, about whatever comes to mind, and they're lovely, thoughtful, thought-filled messages that almost make it worthwhile. Almost.

    If I could pick one thing to do for the rest of my life, it would be talking with him but this isn't a conversation. It's... nothing.

    It's nothing.

    So, I'm closing the door on that wish and whispering my stories to the hard wooden surface, to myself, to you. I'm sure I'll come up something new for the rest of my life.
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