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October 5th

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A thunder storm was starting to brew, the kind that lights up the whole sky in a foggy glow. When we got to the little diner, it was a light in the dark, so we dashed in, covering our heads and dresses and splashing our heels in the parking lot puddles. We took seats at the long table by the window, laughing about the night. What'll it be, the waiter asks. Milkshakes, we all reply. I remember looking around the table at everyone, trying to soak in the moment. That moment of happiness, carelessness, like we were the only ones in the world and it felt so good. How odd it was that I was laughing with these people, and how great was it that I was able to.

The storm continued and our drinks started to disappear, our voices becoming more tired, our minds becoming quieter. And when the glasses were gone, so was our night, so we payed and left. And as we ran out in our separate ways into the darkness and pouring rain, I wanted to stay, and I prayed that on Monday, we would all still be the same.

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