Introduction

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As I ran my index finger over the cold, dusty, table of which I adored so much I left behind a path of the original cherry colored wood. Memories, oh, such wonderful memories flooded my mind. You see, all people want in life is to feel the rarest feeling of all. Love. Not only do we want to feel love. No, we want to be loved in returned to aswell. The person I love is -- dead. Now I am not to telling you my story so you will give me empathy, fore of that I need none. My love story, well it is a tragic one, but it is beautiful in itself.

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