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June 6, 2006
A cup of black coffee clasped in cold hands, steaming against the grey morning sky. The air is cold and refreshing and filled with promises, chasing away the last remaining traces of sleep that are telling me to kiss you. Already, the dawn is a little brighter than it was - soft but sure, rising in the air. The world feels a little warmer in its coldness. On a morning like this, anything seems possible. The horizon stretches on for forever, and you're almost here with me. Almost. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and draw the morning in.