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“My next door neighbour knew a dude. She thought we’d hit it off. I had tickets to the local junior hockey game. I told her to set it up, I’d meet him at the arena. We set up a place to meet, nice and public, exchanged first names, offered physical and clothing descriptions by phone. I don’t remember what night of the week it was. I don’t remember who was playing. I don’t remember how early in the game we started exchanging information about our past or how late in the game I figured out that you were the guy from the stairwell on one of the worst days of self-inflicted pain in my life and you remembered that I was Scottish Flag Girl.

You were disappointed to find out that I wasn’t the least bit Scottish. I was disappointed to find out that it wasn’t your bedroom and it wasn’t your flag.”

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