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Duel evolves between two couples in two buildings.

I stumbled from rejection to rejection until I came to the new guy.

"Bum a smoke, bro?"

Whether out of fear, or loathing, or simply not caring, the guy reached into his pocket and pulled out three sleek sticks of tobacco and held them up. The guy never looked up from the table. A few seconds passed.

"You want'em, or not?"

I reached out and snatched the cigarettes, mumbling some sort of thanks. Somehow finding my way back to my cell, I searched for my matchbook and with trembling fingers lit the end of the smoke. I reached down and carefully lifted the pale, scented paper. The words were still there.

"You are my life... marry me."

I felt light-headed as a confusing blend of joy and regret swirled around me. The poem was so simple. No wasted words. No stilted music. My mind began to replay the quiet refrain... "One stone, two hearts, one breath". It was simple. "One... two... one. One to one, and the stone breathes."

"I can't marry you... I can't."

I was feeling frantic... frenetic. I was a mouse in a cage, a rat in a maze. I began doing a nervous shuffle step... slide right and touch the wall, slide left and touch the wall. Breathing was becoming difficult.

"I can't marry you. I can't. How can I ask you to tether yourself to me? I'm here, condemned to another twenty years of pacing this cell and sweeping floors for cigarettes. I'm hiding from the strong. I'm hiding from the weak. I'm counting minutes and hours as if listening to the clock makes the day go faster..."

I was literally bouncing off the walls, slamming my shoulders against the cold concrete. I was ricocheting from side to side in the six by nine chamber of torture. I tried to stop. I wrapped my arms around my chest, holding on... willing me to stop. My heart hurt. My head was pounding. I stood in the center of my little world as the despair swallowed me. I took shallow breaths. They were coming faster and faster and I finally realized I was hyperventilating. I shook my head and then collapsed on the bunk, crushing the sweet-scented paper beneath me. Tears were streaking my cheek as the weight of the next twenty years began to crush the remaining tender parts of my soul.

It took me nearly an hour to regain control.

By the time I finally restored order to my rampant emotions, I realized I had made a decision. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't marry her. I couldn't let her make that mistake. I couldn't ask her to willingly condemn herself to a lifetime of stolen moments. I couldn't ask her to live from phone call to phone call, visit to visit. I couldn't ask her to surrender the chance to have children... she so wanted to be a mother. We had spent hours upon hours discussing how there was nothing more joyful... no gift from God more sweet than bringing another life into the world. There was no greater celebration of life than giving life. How could I ask her to let that dream go, as if it were nothing more than a balloon loosened in the wind?

I realized I had cocooned into the fetal position and was so tightly holding on to myself that my muscles ached. I began to mutter to myself.

"You fucking asshole. You've already ruined your own life... now she wants you to ruin hers... all because you love her... because she loves you. At least, she thinks she does..."

Swinging my legs over the edge, I sat up in the bunk. The crinkling of the paper underneath me seemed to strengthen my resolve. I reached under my butt and pulled the poem free. Despite the thoughtless abuse my tantrum had reigned upon the small sheet of paper, the words still sung out in perfect clarity.

"You are my life... marry me."

Slowly, like the fog retreating before my dream, I settled upon my solution. "Two hearts, one breath. But, one heart can still breathe alone..."

I let the scented paper drift to the floor and began to slowly rock.

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