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  • There's been no relief you know. Everyday the rain falls and wet rolls down my cheek. The deadpan skies are flat. Blossom are pink and white spatters on the pavement. Ahh. But the reflections are otherworlds in the puddles. Squares on the sidewalks gleam with activity. Striding passersby shift in and out of a softly lit diptych. Your cold hand is suddenly in mine.
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