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“Paul sat in the gazebo and polished off half the bottle. With each sip, his mind drifted further back, until it rested on a girl he’d known in his youth. He sang, in perfect pitch, the Pink Floyd song, Vera. His voice mingled with the wind and sailed off, seeking a nighttime solidarity with all the lonely lovers whose passion had long since grown cold.” — Marc Arginteanu
Paul sat in the gazebo and polished off half the bottle. With each sip, his mind drifted further back, until it rested on a girl he’d known in his youth. He sang, in perfect pitch, the Pink Floyd song, Vera. His voice mingled with the wind and sailed off, seeking a nighttime solidarity with all the lonely lovers whose passion had long since grown cold.