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October 12, 2001
I stood with my back to the fireplace, warming to the glow of her smile. Short hair. Short black dress. Short conversation about nothing. I gave her a house tour and showed her out back in the garden.

Suddenly my world changed.

She must be interested in me, right? Of course, otherwise she wouldn’t have spent all that time with me. I knew she was special. What puzzled me most was the line she left me with: “I can’t wait to spend afternoons digging in your garden. I’ll cook us dinner. And then I’ll sleep over in the guest room.”