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50. Avery

We almost kissed on the pitcher’s mound in November.

We ate pumpkin pie cheesecake on the mound and talked about our hopes for next season. We talked about our hopes for our next lifetime.

We talked until we ran out of words. Until our stomachs were stuffed.

He fed me one last bite.

I leaned in.

He did, too.

Then his brothers came over, demanding some of the cheesecake.

That was when I realized how much I’d missed it.

I missed the taste of his lips against mine.

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