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It takes ten more seconds for the moment to pass and for the pats and taps of our feet to continue walking. Truth be told, I don't care where we walk or who we may encounter as we walk as long as I walk with him. There's no one else here I would want to talk with. No one else here I would even want to talk to.

Occasionally, in those ten seconds, I notice his green eyes glancing at an expensive object possessed by one of the lions. I try not to let it get to me. Of course, he's in wonder, he's probably never been this close to objects like this before. Objects so glamourous that they can only be paid for with the hard work and glow of another.

"All of it is beautiful, huh," I find myself saying. A glance towards Harry finds him glancing at another man's watch sneakily. A pout plays across his lips and the ugly look of displeasure lays softly against his face again.

"It is, but I'd rather have love," He sighs. Love. As if love and money don't go hand-in-hand. As if anyone couldn't love anything or anyone else for the right price. I did it. Eleanor did it. Nearly everyone in the industry are in shallow relationships made to pay the participants. It's in-escapable. Love is fabricated. Love is a lie.

Surely, I'm positive that people on the outside still believe in love. They see their favorite couples on screen and swoon and wish for a love so pure. Maybe, one day, they'll find true love. For those people I'm can only be jealous. To find love without money is like living without oxygen. Impossible.

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