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When Its Time to Say Goodbye

He looked back for a moment in the antique light. Cowboy hat pulled low and the silhouette cut from the cityscape. I waited as he lit a cigarette, and then the scrape of old boots faded down the pavement. The sun was just dipping behind the skyscrapers, and despite the litter, our old street was bare. With a million people in every direction, a lonesome feeling is a rare find.

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