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dear evening daylight,
why must you leave? Ive become so used to your loving caress in my after work hours that I simply hate to see you, yet again, slowly slipping away. this saddens me. I fear soon you'll leave altogether and I'll be forced to use artificial means to complete my tasks or worse, discontinue the projects until the rare air of 'the weekend' comes crawling its way back again.
its just not the same.
I will miss you
__________________
a clear conscience is a sure sign of a fuzzy memory
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