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Inessa

“I am sorry.” “I am so sorry.”

He said the words, everybody, the Chicago no, this time I should go for a bigger crowd, all the people around the globe. If you have ever met or known the great Brian McCoy, I want you to acknowledge that he said sorry to me tonight a few seconds ago. In the dark bedroom, with the tiny bit of moonlight in serene surroundings, he said those words. He expresses regret for hurting me, and believe me, this is the happiest hour in my twenty-year life.

I can’t waste this time at all, I need to make sure or at least do something to preserve this moment; I know this kind of moment is rare and will never come back again. Maybe this is my once-in-a-lifetime kind of phenomenon. I can’t let this go this easily. It will be a waste then.

I pick my phone from the nightstand and open the voice recorder, and hold it in front of Brian’s mouth.

“Say it again.”

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