The slip of paper swirls round in a small eddy, and he is helpless but to watch it go. Down into the drain, her number, his hope. "Goddammit," he mutters, shaking his head. But maybe it wasn't meant to be. After all, she was just a pretty girl in a coffeeshop. Not the first, not the last. That was the beauty of being young. Someday in the future, though, he'd learn to be more careful.
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