![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BbmX69JgBJ8qmx0CDlWfFS32BLo3EsUk9IIliS1ueIcmJPsAk2PR42Yah3bbHAMrRzyB6mqcnnT5g8dUDTHPAuuA__S5BpGOmk-QpdDOUsRIwNGqKo4wYMQL1HvAB7rt2auaC6KMWT0/s400/3_parisarturoolivapedroza.jpg)
I remember the day you left. You took your last breath while I danced to Jet in my room.
I was thinking of you then and how we would ride the double decker buses at the coming
Christmas break. It’s been two years and somehow I think I died that day … with you.
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