"Let's go back," he said. And I thought about it for awhile, tempted to go back to where we were happy. To forget about all this stuff and everything that had happened and just let time stop somewhere far, far away. "Yeah, we'll go back sometime," I said, lying. For how could I tell him that we could never go back. That it wasn't there anymore. Both ways end in lies. You get to pick whichever lie you want to believe. Either we can go back and pretend it's the same; or we never go back and, by wanting to go back, pretend that we never left.

 

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