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I watched your cheeks flush, colored by an air from a Calgary cold front Your breath made ghosts spill into the night, And gather as if they might not disappear. I had heard a rumor you were moving back home! But even if it was true, I did not expect to hear it from you so bluntly. So it hung in the air like a fever, or a slow moving front And I would not find shelter here, so I braced myself "Out!" I cried, "out! Are you running to or are you running from? or does it even matter if it won't change your mind?" When you put your hand on mine, I knew.