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April 1, 2007
Spring is the most hopeful of the seasons. The pleasures of summer are yet to come, but close; the deaths of all the flowers yet to bloom seem far away, impossible. When they first fell in love, it was a welcome spring after a long, hard winter. When they looked into the future, all they could see were long, sunny days, a seemingly endless vista of happiness. There were no fears, no shadows. But their summer, like all summers, came to an end sooner than they imagined, and they found themselves surrounded by fallen leaves and dead flowers, winter ahead.