Stuff I've dug up.
Here's a passage from a diary entry I wrote on today's date seven years ago. I was 25.
9.18.04. Saturday. Night. Home.
Saw Dee today for the first time in ages. She's in town to visit her old college pals--her first time back in Chicago since graduating from Northwestern more than two years ago. It was great seeing her. We went to Millennium Park and the Berghoff, and then walked through a Celtic festival, ate ice cream by Buckingham Fountain, and finally sat by the lake for a bit. A very Chicago-y afternoon.
Dee her regular wry self. She works for VH-1 now and has begun dating her first white guy. She seems to think I have too few friends and that I am wasting my life at the day job (no argument there). But I think she still finds me funny and charming, so what else matters?
Very difficult to say goodbye.
As it happens, I haven't seen her since.
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