I fear my dear, that I'm drinking to forget, that you're the only pretty thing that's left. You might choke and die swallowing your pride, but at least you'd have a chance to see the moment we called happiness. It's the best gift that the wold gave me. See, my America is not a place you point out on a map. My America is every place I love and miss to death. Now I'm missing you to death.

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