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Quote by Marsha Hinds

“On Relationships – The end of Midsomar is harrowing but the director claims that it’s meant to be a breakup film. The man has the right concept although you have to question the execution (no pun intended). Contrast that heroine to Demi Moore’s Molly in the movie Ghost. When her lover dies, she spends the majority of the film in maudlin tears, holding on to the scraps of their affair. His ghost lingers near her, inaudible and invisible, staring in disbelief when she clings to the stub of a concert they once attended. He points out that she hated that concert so why keep that stub? Why cling to the detritus of an affair spent with a man too gutless to say he loved her? When a relationship is over, then it’s time to sell the ex’s possessions on Ebay. What can’t be sold should be donated to Goodwill—and don’t forget to get that slip of paper so you can claim the donation on your taxes! What Goodwill won’t accept, you give to your family, friends and loved ones. What they won’t take, you toss in the trash or, for the true cathartic effect, you pile in a heap on the lawn and burn it to ashes.”

Quote by Marsha Hinds

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Marsha Hinds

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“Carefully, he twisted the clasp, securing it to my wrist before brushing his thumb across my knuckles. “Do you like it?” Did I like it? No. I loved it. Loved it so much I couldn’t utter a word. I could only stare at it, even if my vision swam and I’d suddenly suffered an allergic reaction that made my eyes leak. I wasn’t crying. I was simply expelling excess saltwater. From my eyes. Which some people might’ve thought were tears. But they weren’t. I. Was not. Crying. “Holly?” “Yes,” I croaked, my voice sounding like a squeaky hinge. “It’s beautiful. I’m not crying.” “I didn’t say you were.” I could hear the amusement in Kye’s voice, even if I couldn’t look away from the damn bracelet on my wrist. “You were thinking it.” “It does look like you’re crying.” “I’m not. It’s water retention in reverse.” Kye and my family chuckled before he said, “I don’t think it works that way.” “It does,” I insisted, swallowing repeatedly and sniffling. “I’m sure of it.” I’m a mess. A complete and utter mess.”