Dublin’s ghost
<p>He turned to his friend, “she was there, too! In Dublin!” He was so excited about it. I smiled and nodded at his friend to confirm that yes, I really was there, too. We breathed the same cold Irish air, and we might have even passed each other in a corridor of the conference centre. There I had it, evidence, a witness even, that he existed before tonight. Still, I was almost certain that wasn’t possible. How could I have been somewhere in his immediate vicinity four years ago without being pulled in by the gravitational forces I’ve been hooked by tonight? <em>No, no</em>, I think, <em>it couldn’t be possible that he moved through the world before this moment.</em> This felt deliberate. Surely God had taken all of my sins and spun them into this beautiful being, strategically dropping him in this room tonight so that I would spend forever with an ache for this kind of fluttering in my chest. My penance will be that now, everything good will be tainted with the nagging whispers of comparison. I’ll continue to pine for something I will never really have.</p>
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