I was traveling through the area and saw you at a little brewery bar called the darkhorse.
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You were short, sandy brown hair, and blue eyes. Quiet, plump lips drinking from a stone mug. You just had this look about you that I couldn’t get over.
I’m back in Colorado now, so I’ll probably never see you again. I’m still kicking myself for not talking to you. I’m sure I’m missing out on a lot.