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March 20, 2008
I moved to Canada during one of the past five years. I rented an apartment with a young woman. We were very much in love. I paid the rent. She bought the furniture. It was a small-town steep-hill railroad car apartment on a roaring animal river. I remember our first day there. It was sunny, and she sat by the window writing. There was some confusion about her marriage, perhaps less that night when she ran down the stairs crying like Cinderella leaving the ball at the stroke of Midnight. I waited there two weeks for her to come home.