I wonder what that means. I wish I was a mind reader. I used to be. Not so now. So sad and pitiful to be 48 years old and looking, hoping for little signs, like I'm some immature, broken hearted teenager.
Actually, now that I think about it more, I'm sure it meant nothing. Just wishful thinking on my part. I just have to come to grips with the fact that I have no hope.
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