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She quietly handed it to me. Thankfully, I stopped writing and accepted her gift.
My six-year-old love wants to marry me. (I'm the one in blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms and green t-shirt; Abby is in the pink one-piece body suit.)
Time stopped. All noise subsided. The poignancy of her message grew lumps in my throat and formed tears in my eyes. Abby stood patiently while I read and reread her note, languishing in her and the depths of her love. I looked up at her, smiled and swallowed her in a hug.