the prologue.

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It's been about three weeks since you've left, and every second of it is destroying me. I hold onto the hope that you'll return, and it's utterly pointless. That's what kills me. I tell myself you'll be back, and I hold onto what I know is gone.

Every agonizing minutes passes by, and every noise I hear makes me think it might be you. But it just can't be. There's no way it could be you.

As each hour passes, I think of it as an hour closer to your arrival. It's just really another hour wasted on hoping for the impossible.

Your disappearance has made me miserable, and isn't that just sad? I've put my entire life into one person.

And that was my mistake, wasn't it?

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