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I went back home to see what they had done to Everett Square. What Noah had told me was true - they'd torn down the community center. It was old, it needed to go. I didn't understand why they'd left half the building, though; the house annex was there but had been burned. Black wood like charcoal under my feet.

I showed Patrick what had been the kitchen. The kids played on the crumbling steps. Pat reached up to hold my hand while I stood on the blackened table, the one thing left. He pretended to kiss me through what used to be a window, but our lips did not touch. My hair was longer, and I knew he liked it.

(This is not my dream, it belongs to my housemate.) She dreams that she visited me in New York, that i'd moved there, but he'd moved there too, and we were still "together," everything was the same but in a different place. My God, she thought, when are they going to break this cycle?

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