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A bottle of white, a bottle of red. Perhaps a bottle of rosé instead. The restaurant is a perfect place to pursue romantic interests and reminisce about long lost loves.
Graffiti:
ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴄʜᴏᴏsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ
Note from the Management
Leo,
I miss you. I miss you so much it makes me sick sometimes. It’s in my chest, in my stomach, in the silence before I fall asleep. And no matter how many years pass, it doesn’t go away. You’re still there. Always.
I was never the person who fell in love. I didn’t need it. I didn’t want it. I was fine being on my own, untouched, untamed. But then you showed up and broke something in me. You made me fall—hard. And the worst part? I never figured out how to fall out.
You’re still under my skin. No matter what I do, who I try to be with, where I go… you don’t leave me. You ruined me for anyone else. And maybe you didn’t mean to. But you did.
I’ve been telling myself to stay silent, to let time bury it, but it doesn’t. I still want to hear your voice. I still want your hands on me. I still want you. Every damn part of you.
I don’t know what you feel. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But I had to say it—I miss you. I want you. I never stopped.
—Michelle