The Sixty-Third Note

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You were dying.
Yet, I did not see it.
The way you limped sometimes, the way you stopped talking in the middle of a sentence, the way you would look so sad sometimes even while laughing, the way you hid your hand under the table.
It was all clear, in front of my very eyes.
I was stupid, so stupid.
I could not see it.
I was foolish, so foolish.
I could not help you.

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