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The lilacs are in bloom along 17th Avenue, the branches hang over the sidewalks and the air is refreshingly sweet. I walked around for a while, brushing my hands against the trees and grinning to myself. I went down there after work tonight, spending much of the evening in a surprisingly deserted Café Beano where I caught up on my Art history reading. Taking a round-about route back to the train station, I walked fast and got caught in the rain. I listened to the compilation tape Jeremy gave me before his trip to Los Angeles and found myself walking in time with each track. It was a little strange how coordinated things became after the tape repeated itself for the second time.

There were so many couples walking around tonight, their hands linked together and gazes crossed. I remember when I used to be a part of that scene--I had the boyfriend who would walk with his hand on my ass and I'd keep mine in his back pocket, our bodies always touching in some way no matter what the situation. Now I'm annoyed with it. I see these couples walking around, completely enamored with being with each other, and I want to trip them up. I want to stick my foot out and completely mess up their rhythm. I wonder if that makes me bitter?

Yea, ok, that was the mega understatement of the night. Heh.

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