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January 11, 2002
We argued over who stole the coke. The party started with five grams, maybe more. And now that it was 4 in the morning, we apparently hit empty. But that couldn’t be the case. I swore she hid half a gram in her purse. Or stupidly misplaced it.

We fought until the sun rose. Greg and Fran drove us home.

Not only had we fallen out of love, but we lost all respect for each other. That was the last major battle. The final one was brief, though. She slapped me. I turned the other cheek. Walked out the door.