Sarah wasn’t a morning person. She often overslept and had to dash straight into the elevator with her hair still wet.
“Surely for this,” she said, “He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.”
It was something silly she learned as a girl, but she whispered and wished as she passed each floor, always arriving in the lobby on “He loves me not.”
One morning, Sarah accidentally pressed “up.” All the way down, she recited the incantation. The door opened.
“He loves me,” she sighed, and there stood the man of her dreams.
Or so she thought.
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