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April 24, 2015
Dear you, Remember when we read The Merchant of Marvels and the Peddler of Dreams to each other? Today I heard someone read a story to his boyfriend and it reminded me of your steady voice, your calming presence, your slow hands as you turn the pages. My memories of us are now stained-glass blurred. I peek inside this room of you and I, and I can't anymore remember an exact smell or temperature, whereas in the past it was all that I knew, the exactness of you and I. This is to say, I like you, always will.