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Twelve years. It'd been twelve years since he last saw her. Twelve years since she placed his ring back in his hand and said sorry with tears in her eyes. Twelve years since she left him and never looked back. And those years had been kind to her. She once had been all legs and bones. Now she was curves and hips, shimmering in the stage lights like a dream. 

Mike rubbed his face. It can’t be. He stepped closer, shaking the buzz from his head. That face, though. It was her. He would know that face anywhere: those eyes, those lips, that smile. How many nights had he dreamt about that face?

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