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Was it a dream? He couldn't say.

The memory drifted through his mind's eye like the smoke of a recently extinguished cigarette. Had she meant what he thought? Or had he imagined it? Did he just want it too much?

That subtle smile, barely perceptible wink, tiny wave of her hand that might have been some other gesture reconsidered. Had she intended to leave a shred of hope or was it wishful thinking?

He would never know now. She had gone, boarding the bus with a light step never to return.

And she hadn't even given him her Twitter handle.

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