entry twenty-two

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dear olivia,

i visited your house today. your parents let me go your room. i cried again for the first time since the week of your death. i laid on your bed as i played your favorite record through your speakers. the music played all the way through before stopping on the last track but i didn't bother to get up. your parents didn't seem to mind much, they never came in to kick me out or anything. olivia, it's been eighty days. and i don't hurt any less then i did the first day.

love,
theo

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