Eve

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He is dead. Really dead.
Dylan is dead. Oddly, I never thought he would die. I always thought I would die first. But I did not. He did. He saved me. Even after he had died his arm lay across my back, over my heart. Saving my life. He died for me. And I do not know why. I wish I knew. Maybe it was accidental. Maybe he did not mean to. Maybe it just happened. After all, we did not plan the San Alfertrez airport shooting. But maybe he did die for me. Unintentionally. But he always planned to.

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