>>/168426/
She's been gone six years. Six years I waited, hoping that she wouldn't come back. Every year, I took a holiday. I went to Ireland, there's this cafe, on the banks of the Bann. Every fine evening, I'd sit there and order a Fernet Branca. I had this fantasy, that I would look across the tables and I'd see her there, with a husband and maybe a couple of kids. She wouldn't say anything to me, nor me to her. But we'd both know that she'd made it, that she was happy. I never wanted her to come back to America. I always knew there was nothing here for her, except pain and tragedy. And I wanted something more for her than that. I still do.