I sit under the moonlight, my hands shaky and my chest tight. I nervously turn my phone on and off, checking the time: 9:47...9:53. My feet bounce, shaking off tiny fractions of anxiety as my eyes dart around with desperate, urgent anticipation. I mutter to myself Please, please, please. Come to me, Sweet Panda. a nickname borne from your soft, temder embrace Please, oh, please. my inner tension spikes Oh, my god, what will I even say to you? I turn on my phone. 9:57. Please...
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