The one hundred and nineteenth thing I love about us is the utter impotence of clouds and night to dim the bright sun that is you.
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The two hundred and eighty-seventh thing I love about us is, when I'm around you, I only want to curse if things are curse-ably good, or...
But, don't you need a break from sunlight every once in a while, or else you'll get all hot and start to sweat and ... oh, wait, that's a whole different way your post works, isn't it!
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