We’re both thinking about a news story we read a few months ago where a guy left his apartment to move his car and went missing, only to turn up almost two weeks later in a hospital because he was hit by car, and nobody knew who he was since he didn’t have any ID on him.
“Come home soon, I love you,” I say, making sure to say it and mean it just in case it’s the last thing I ever get to say to her.
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