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Your name echoes in my head, reverberating in the dark recesses of my brain, every thought lingering for a second too long before disappearing into an empty silence where there is only me. And that memory. The two of us, somehow strangely consoling, comforting the other. That I remember it and that it remembers me. Here we are alone together, memory and half of its creator. And in this moment of solitude, I am satisfied. For always, when I am with my memories of you, I am content.