Whenever I need to escape from the monotony of life, I close my eyes and think of this moment from my childhood. To anyone else this memory would seem meaningless, but that’s all the better because that makes it mine. In the eighth grade, before Mom divorced Jack and we were still living in the Stevenson house, there was this one fall night where
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we should stay friends.
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P.S. Did you ever write part three of the Chicago trip. Meh.
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