So I kept walking down the hallway even though she kept yelling after me. "Adrian! Adrian!" But not in the reverse Rocky way that used to be ours. Items flew past me, mostly shoes, one hit me in the back, the head. Was this our last encounter? Some spoiled words and a barrage of footwear? It was too late to care, and truth was we stopped caring long ago. But that didn't mean she was crying, and that didn't mean I wasn't holding back tears.
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