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Doyle Holden


  You stand there looking up at me with your eyes wide open. Your purple shirt hugging your body, like I had dreamt of doing myself. Your shoulders sag as I stand near the door. Your eyes stay open like a black hole trying to capture every move I make and word I say. As I scan your face, I look for a sign or a hint telling me to get it over with and finally kiss you, but I can't quite find it. I should just do it. Maybe if I had a little more confidence I would, but this back brace I wear only makes me feel like a failure. I wish that we had gotten it right back in high school. There was no way I could do anything about it now with your friends sitting and staring at us like vultures as I try to give you the goodbye I had always wanted to. As I get into the car to drive away, I drive away wanting, waiting and wishing for my phone to buzz with a message from you. I wonder when I will see you next, since you live 700 miles away from me, it's not like I can just drive over every time I think of you. My hands still stink from the rank red dye that you spilt on my hands a few minutes ago when we were painting those Easter eggs. The stain left on my hand is almost like a signature you left there on purpose so I wouldn't forget you. Who cares if her friends were there, why didn't I just kiss her. I really need to find a cure for this disease called long distance affection.


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