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I'll never know why he wrote that song about me. I really didn't believe he cared that much. "Did you think I was joking?" he asked me, when I saw him again.
I shrugged. "I guess I did."
"I wouldn't tease you, Mary."
I guess I'm supposed to regret I stayed here. I'm supposed to lie in bed at night, alone, and dream of how it could have been different. I don't. If I'm by myself, it's because I like to be. If I want to go to Los Angeles or New York City, I'll pay for my own ride.