Two years after the fact, I still cherish those early
moments, even if as I believed for a time, she might have been using me, only
for to conclude I was a broken escalator incapable of transporting her to where
she wanted to go.
Two years later, after all the ups and downs, I still
cherish the memory of it, the potential of something that would never leave to
anything, and yet, felt good to think it might have, the bump and grind of a
moving stair that – in its fits and starts –left us largely where we started,
with no hope to go on or go back.
Two years after the fact, I still wish it had, that I could
have given her the boost she needed, even if where she ended up was not with
me.
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