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May 12, 2019
You didn't say anything. It would've hurt if I were a younger version of me. But that time I was almost 38. Too old. Not saying age insulates us from hurt. Your nonresponse cruised over my shoulders and dusted themselves off, never to be seen or thought of again. I can control being hurt now. I will remember you during summer rains, when drinking good coffee, when eating spectacular pasta, when riding a bike. I will remember you for all days, the good memories. This might sound sad, it's not. I think we're finally reaching some sort of finish line.