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...t twenty years of age?  I could kiss him.  I'm going to kiss him.

"Anyway, goodnight, man," He said, so casually I could hardly bare it.

I stuttered and all that came out of my mouth was a hoarse whisper: "Yeah, man.  G'night."

I watched him walk off down my road, cigarette in one hand and his pride firmly in the other.  I had missed my chance.

Suddenly the sky looked cracked and jilted, the pavement broken, the way it had always been and they way I always failed to notice.

I was so embarrassed, shamed, torn.  The blood was still racing through me, pumping so fiercely I thought I might murder someone.

I took a last deep breath before entering my house and suddenly felt a sense of freedom, like I was grateful that Tom had walked away.

 Love has many ways of trapping a person.  It can dress itself up as majestically as it pleases, but underneath, love will always be a grey, lonely, ubiquitous feeling.

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