the other end was talking to me, and I wipe away the salty tears running down my freckled cheeks, “sorry?” I say choking a little in an attempt to hide the fact that I am in fact sobbing. “Can you come down tomorrow around 4pm?” he repeats in an almost annoyed tone. I know to other people looking at me right now my face would probably look like a child at Christmas getting all the toys in the world imaginable, it lit up literally like a Christmas tree; I probably could’ve squealed but refrained…
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