: ten

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"I'm really not that interesting," you said, passing smoke out in a thick stream of grey.

I wanted you shout at you, tell you that you were lying, because you were so fucking interesting.

Everything about you was interesting, and it had caught me in it's wake of whatever it did and I wasn't able to leave.

I shrugged once more, carelessness rolling off my shoulders as if I had an endless supply of it.

"Despite, I still like you."

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