I looked up recompense just to be sure. I usually told myself I loved him. That I had loved him but not impeccably. He was my albino alibi. Check if you must. Trust what I have not told you yet. You are one of me. I fret over reflexive dithering. I say samba. You say fence. I say variegated. You say straight lines. What did I take from you, what did I fail to return. As much as I don't love you, I would never wish you bitterness. A parched starched riddance.

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