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i love her all the time

R. called me, yesterday evening. We chatted for about twenty minutes. Everything felt normal between us again. She said they got the card I sent and that she really liked what I had written. "Did you think I was too quiet while I was there?" I asked

"No, you were fine."

"Or that I babbled too much?"

"Harold, one thing I've learned is that people are who they are and that I can't change them. I make the choice about the people I want to keep in my life. As long as someone isn't constantly offensive, then I pretty much accept them for what they are. This business about you thinking you didn't talk enough or talked too much, it doesn't matter. You were fine, Harold."

"Maybe I just have an overactive imagination."

"It's good for writing fiction."

"Not so great for everything else. I tend to overthink things and maybe imagine the people I care about are thinking things that they really aren't thinking."

"I do that a lot. It's why it takes me forever to get to sleep and why I'm such a restless sleeper when I do sleep."

"You know what, R.? Your voice makes my ears drunk."

"Ha, okay."

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