November 2011
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It was March. If I looked outside of my window, I saw snow melting, the sun trying to peek through the persistent overcast skies. I was wearing one of your t-shirts and across it read “Welcome to paradise.” Stupid shirt, I was in hell.
Sometimes I would still call out to you. In the morning when I was still half-asleep and plenty delirious, facing the wall, I would feel your presence behind me,...