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all of our 19s are special. it was our day, the intervals of our birthdays, the date we kissed, and the number we always get on a random day. our 19's were special. it was ours. we owned that number, and we owned each other. but, it was becoming a boresome. a suffocating air that once breathed, a lifetime that once lived, and the invisible string that once tied.

it was a.. was.