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The Man In The Grey Suit The Candle
It had been three years since she had died, and Blake had never really recovered. He hadn't lashed out, or sought answers at the bottoms of bottles, but had simply withdrawn into himself. He became quiet, especially on overcast days, or on days when it snowed. Julie had loved the snow. Blake had never seen her so happy, so alive, as when she was running around in fresh powder, making snow angels or throwing snowballs at him. She'd etch out their names on frosted surfaces, "Blake and Julie...