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February 16, 2005
She would recognize me as the handsome devilfish that got away. She would see the error of her ways and drop her coffeepot to the ground. She would run through the diner smiling and removing her waistcloth. I would hold the door open for her and she would fling herself into my arms. We would fall over laughing over the silliness of yesterday. We would walk off into the sunset, holding hands like old lovers do. Lots of people have that. And so would we. It's not a selfish thing to hope for. Dreams do sometimes come true. I hope.