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The Apartment #32

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It's the small things I miss. The way he said "Morning!", his voice like sunshine. He'd stir my tea with his spoon: "just to make sure" he'd say, though neither of us knew what we had to be sure of. The snore before he fell asleep over his book. He'd rub my hand for no reason. Those little notes he left, even after so many years. The little smiles that meant nothing and everything. Oh so many little things I miss, so many huge little things. They held my life together, those huge small loves. They're gone now. Gone, forever.

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