Remember, that day in the summer when you and I would just sit and talk? About all sorts of things. About the way I talked and the way you always wore your glasses so low that they'd fall off. I didn't like it, when the rim covered up your aquamarine-and-emerald eyes. I told you so and you laughed and pushed your glasses back. You said you liked the Beatles and I thought you were weird for liking 60's music. You said you liked strawberry jam and strawberry icecream and strawberry cake and I never liked strawberries and you said I was weird. But that's okay, because you would sing that song called "Strawberry Fields Forever" in your really bad singing voice and I couldn't stay mad at you.
Remember, that day in the fall, when you and I sat under the big, ugly oak tree in the park? I was sad that day because my cat ran away.
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