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January 15, 2010
Four minutes. He was crying and I held him and he held me for four minutes. I smelled his cologne. I touched is hair. I felt his breath on my neck. I absolutely ache for him. I cray inside because I know it that as good as it feels, it will never be. I wonder, does he feel it too? Maybe just an inkling? We WILL be together in our old age: holding hands, laughing, joking, and comforting each other throug the pains of growing old almost alone. How can this be wrong when it feels so very, very right?