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Dear Michael,

I hate you. It's been nine months and not a damn thing ha been done Michael. I had fate that one day you'd walk through the front door and tell me that what we had was real.

But I guess I'm too fucking idiotic to see your rather be with someone else. I'm still living in the restaurant, if you even care anymore. Cause clearly you don't.

I just wish you kept your promise.

Love, Dani

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