Driving in my car, pent in on all sides by deep summer haze, I realize that the one thing I can't get over is that I will have this accidental scratch on my leg longer than I got to have you. Sitting here, now, I realize that although I might think of you every time I relax in the tan chair looking out at the world through gossamer curtains, that I wouldn't give up loving you. The cliché, "Life is not always kind," is true here. I will always be sorry it had to be that way for you, for us.
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