I saw blue jeans, something that Sam never wore. They were scuffed, something that looked familiar to me. Then I saw, the dark, but sandy hair that was longer now. The hazel eyes. The ragged T-shirt, that needed to be replaced. The tall length, and nice build, but not too built, just enough. I still held the gun pointing at the ghost. Unbelieving. The ghost of my past. The one that was lost. The one that was never coming back. The one who I loved more than myself.

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