She would meet this young man who would promise to change her life, and he would. Like he did mine. She would say how real he was, something about how what they had was the best thing to happen to her in years. I would listen to her and smile, not interrupting, knowing how it would all end; he would die in five years, by her side, on the way to their wedding. Like he did on ours.

Her Love was dead and she would not know. Who was I to say, I did not know too, when I met him.

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