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"He's not mine," she said. And I don't think he ever will be. Maybe it's a good thing because things aren't how you imagine them to be. Having expectations sets you up for disappointment.

I can't help but to think what lying in his arms might feel like, I can't help but imagine being up close to him and having his breath match mine, or feeling the touch of his skin against mine." She closed her eyes and felt the wind in her hair, and imagined that he was beside her.

"You know, he's going to kill me." She said to the moon, "he will absolutely commit murder and the horrific part is he doesn't even know it."

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