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We keep and keep and keep. We remember and remember and remember. We collect heart-shaped shells and signs and old notebooks and recollections. We hold on, memorize the lines of her tan, slender hands and the sound of her laugh, engraving ourselves with the smallest details, lest we ever forget. We try to make amends, reason with ghosts, explain ourselves to the wind. And then, there comes a time when we must let go.
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