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  • The note was gone today. For the first time in weeks all that was on the shrub were fallen leaves, light, water. All that should be on a shrub. Up until today, every time I passed by the shrub on the corner of my block, the note remained wedged between green branches.
    I found the note one evening while finishing a run from my house. I turned the corner on my street from the main road and found the note lying carelessly on the asphalt, pushed in with some leaves and other trash. What grabbed me first was the color. Bright neon pink. I picked it up and had an immediate sense that I was invading someone else’s airspace. But the voyeur in me persisted. I read the note. In teenager-ish handwriting accented with misshapen hearts, I read the words “Hey Cutie. You have someone that loves you. I’ve been watching you and you don’t know me. Maybe one day you will. Anonymous me.”
    The sidewalk at the head of my neighborhood is a well-trodden path for high school kids to and from their homes. My immediate thought was that it was meant for a kid like that. My heart broke. The note was lost. Or worse, discarded intentionally. All I could do was stick the note at the top of the shrub in plain sight to anyone passing by and hope that the boy might find it while walking to or from school on another day, another time.
    A second chance for the anonymous young girl.
    I’m trying to figure out why I care about this. Why had the neon pink blur of young, unrequited love taken such a hold of me? Maybe it was the culmination of a 1,000 wasted desires I had thrown out casually, or lost, during young days that turned into a life.
    Eagerly, I waited for the ultimate fate of the note to unfold every time I turned the corner of my street. Was another curious onlooker or the rightful owner of the note the remedy for my ever so slight obsession today? Or maybe it was the wind that blew the note away from all of us.
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