at the airport, and on our flight, there was a tall, gray haired man who was wearing a tight white tank top, a white long sleeve shirt over it, white straight, long pants, white suspenders, and white shoes. he was carrying a ZALES bag. there was a guy in front of us at the connecting flights line who had a backpack that said "bastard-made by those lazy italians" we started talking to that same guy, and it turns out he is from rome, lives in chicago and milan, and in chicago he lives down the street from becky! i have never felt like this before, this doesn't feel real. not like when you go to an amazing concert, or have a surprise birthday party, but something different, impossible to describe. i don't believe that i am
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