A smear of your lipstick and pink cake frosting clouding the spoon you left on the table. Here I am on my fourth margarita. The crumpled wrapping fistfuls of wrapping paper are like fitful bursts of color in the corner of my vision
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It's going on nine months since we've spoken, and while I'm still not over anything, I just want to extend my greetings, my salutations, and my regards. I hope that you are well. I hope that you're happy in all of your undertakings and projects. I don't date attempt a decryption of your journal post, but I will say that your writing is as beautiful as ever.
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