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Cul flows. We first met in that

Cul de sac, what an interesting word. The road winded down passing Maple street, Oak Boulevard, finally wrapping around and shooting past them yet again. The cul de sac was our place. The only place on earth where rain never fell and snow fluttered down as if straight out of a movie scene. Talking and smoking and talking some more was the only thing that was necessary in the cul de sac; no expectations, no pressure, and everything just flows. We first met in that very same cul de sac. She was walking her dog, I was smoking behind the mailbox. The dog, I later learned his name was Jake, was triple the size of her and could easily break her fragile body with a single aggressive movement. She turned her head as she rounded the corner and noticed my golden highlights shimmering in the glow of the street light. She froze in her tracks, startled by the presence of another human at such a late time. “Hey there,” I chuckled,”What brings you around at this time of night?” “Jake.” she murmured. “I’m sorry, who?” “Jake, my dog, he couldn’t sleep so we went for a short walk.” she explained. An essence of confidence and composure took over her being, her bright blue eyes no long timid and afraid. “Jake couldn’t sleep, or you couldn’t sleep?” I questioned. “A mixture of both I suppose,” she pondered, glancing up into the night sky as if the stars could give her the answer. I admired her features, her rounded face, spotted with freckles across her nose and cheekbones. There was a hint of anger across all her features, except her eyes. The blue orbs had a sparkle of purity and vulnerability. Looking into her eyes, I understood her entire life. She had experienced true pain and suffering and was still in search of true joy. “Why are you staring at me?” she questioned, snapping me out of my philosophical gaze. “Sorry, my mind can not encapsulate the amount to wonder you carry with just a simple glance.” “Pardon me?” I could tell she was unsettled by my comment. “It was a compliment,” I blurted in an attempt to ease her mind, “I am a believer in meaningful compliments. I could have said you were beautiful or stunning but that wouldn’t have sunk in.” “You’re very strange,” she stated, a smirk spreading across her face. A buzzing noise blasted from her pocket suddenly. She pulled her cell phone, examining the device to find the explanation for the buzzing. “My alarm.” she stated. She must have known I was curious. “Time for us to head home Jakey,” she spoke to the dog in a higher register, extending her vowels as if that would help him to understand her. She turned and began her quest home. ‘Wait!” I called after her, “I never got your name.”She turned around, that same smirk from before stretching across her face, “See you never darling.” Her words race through my mind as I stand here, behind that same mailbox in that same cul de sac. The difference from that night to now is the absence of her presence. This is the 8th night in a row that she hasn’t graced me with her angelic laugh. We had grown so close throughout our time together. I had learned so much about her life. She is a Cancer, shares a birthday with Canada, she has a terminal illness and her name is Fiona. Fiona. Such a fitting name for her. The only name I can think of that comes close to encapsulating her personality. 12:51 p.m. She isn’t coming. She has to take her meds at 12:50 and go straight to bed. She isn’t coming. I turn to walk, leaving that magical spot where the rain never falls and the snow flutters down like a movie scene. I take one last drag, inhaling deeply while I drop my cigarette. As I turn to leave I can’t help but feel as though leaving is the opposite of what I should do. I shake the thought out of my head and continue walking.”Olivia!”Startled by the sudden call of my name, I freeze in my tracks. It couldn’t be her, I thought, it’s 12:53, she in bed. I convince myself I’m hallucinating due to lack of sleep and continue walking. “Olivia, get your ass back over here

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