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  • Day One: I walk up the steps out of the muggy train station, and I see him. His back. Turning a corner.

    Day Two: I race across the street with a handwritten list of errands twisted in my fist, and see him sauntering across the park.

    Day Three: I turn a corner and watch as he walks into Barnes & Noble with a crease in his forehead.

    Day Four: I catch sight of him in a doorway, chatting quietly on his phone, and as I walk pass, I feel his eyes on me. He turns and watches as I walk. It was one day I swallowed a pretty pill that made me quite mindless to what Ms. Judgement could bring up.

    I think everyone has someone like this. This one person they can't know because they haven't met, and they probably will never meet, but they are special, somehow. See, this guy, he looked like poetry to me, and that's really hard to explain. He was tall, light skinned, with long, neat dreads that had never once caught my fancy before. He was an urban fantasy that could spin a whole lot of stories with one glance. I had it all planned out, and knew we would never meet, but for that slow utopian moment, the phone lines were free. Ready for connection.
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