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"I talk to God all the time," I told him, "and he's never mentioned you."

He mentioned her though, or someone like her, in the dreams which have comforted me since I grew tall enough to see over the rim of the gutter where I was born. Someone soft and beautiful, with eyes that see past the pickpocket, and ears that hear the truth beneath the lies. Someone that takes the hand I offer, and dances with me.

She is not the answer to my dreams, but if it is in my power, I will be the answer to hers.