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So, you contracted Multiple Sclerosis, and it’s my fault.

I constantly tempted the karma forces by taking the tips others had left at restaurant tables next to me. I prompted the voodoo the night I cheated on you when you were tossing and turning in yet another sleep study. I spat at the Universe as I ripped all of the “do not rip” tags off of the over priced pillows at the new Pier One.

I, the constant fool, lived on the existential edge, but it was you who had been pushed off.

So, I blurted my confession to save you, to save love.

You threw the chair I painted Sorry game token color lime at me and left. I noticed a crack slightly right of center on the seat. I briefly wondered if it would pinch my ass when I sat.

I knew I deserved it.

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