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88. A Letter

*KEATON*

If I can't talk to her directly, maybe with this piece of paper I can introduce myself to her. I couldn't do anything but guess what her face looked like, what her voice was like, and how she spoke. I can only pray that she lives happily, that she is happy, and that all the bad things that will happen to her will disappear.

I want her to get the best. My hand felt stiff and shaking, the light pen felt heavy when I tried to move it and compose a sentence. Hopefully, these sentences don't make her hate me or even hate her mother. One by one words were written until they became long paragraphs.

My vision blurred a little; I took off my foggy glasses, and tears fell in drops, sweating this writing. My heart hurts to express my feelings of love and affection that I cannot channel to her. She is the creation of the most beautiful memories I have ever had with a woman I love.

Whenever I can't forget her, even though my mouth says I hate her, I don't want to meet her, and I don't
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