You say we work best when we tease each other. Darling, what kind of life is that to live? We're both so innocent, or so the world thinks. But we know each other well enough to know this isn't what we expected this to be. I think to myself, ''what good will come of this?'' and the winter wind replies to me in the saddest and cruelest of ways and whispers ''nothing''. With just a simple glance into your eyes, I can see the misery forming ever so violently and I don't think I can take it.
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