October, 22nd

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8.00 p.m.

Pink roses. White satin all over the altar. The groom and the bride, side by side.

I was on your side. And so were you. Watching them like we would have the same chance, too.

My feet hurt.

Take it off, you murmured.

I shook my head. You bended on your knee. Not to propose. You untied the belt of my high heels.

It's okay. You still look pretty without them.

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10.35 p.m.

I can't run anymore.

No, you have to get the last train.

You bended on your knee. Again. Told me to hop on your back.

It was firm. It felt safe. I felt safe.

The last train will arrive in 20 minutes, said the guard.

You let out a deep, relieved sigh. Funny, I thought; I should be the one who sighed.

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10.44 p.m.

It started raining. We were still waiting.

You can go back to your dorm. I'll be just fine.

You pretended not to hear. Instead,

you looked at my feet. It was bleeding, a bit. It sting, a lot. I hated high heels.

Let me take care of that.

You took a piece of tissue from your pocket, ripped it in two. Wrapped them around both of my little toes.

Sorry, can't get you any band-aid in the train station. They don't sell it.

I scoffed. You sucked at jokes.

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10.50 p.m.

Five more minutes.

You look wonderful tonight.

I chuckled. Because I wear pink?

Yeah, mostly. I can finally see you in another color beside black or gray.

We laughed.

Five more minutes.

And I didn't want to leave.

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10.54 p.m.

The train was coming. I could hear the sound of it getting closer.

The rain was still dripping.

It's still raining. You don't bring your umbrella.

You shrugged it off. I felt a tinge of angry. Not fair, you know.

I wanted to care about you too.

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10.55 p.m.

The train stopped.

I didn't want the door to open. But it did open.

I was stepping on the train. You grabbed my arm, stopping me.

Goodnight, you whispered.

I nodded, smiled. Goodnight for you too.

I stepped on the train. I looked at you, and it felt like forever.

The door was closing.

Thank you, I mouthed.

The door closed. Your face started to gone in blurry, as the train moving.

And I missed you already.

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11.23 p.m.

Six stops.

You still felt like home.

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