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Not knowing that someone’s last encounter will be their last; allowing that moment to pass by, seemingly insignificant; attaching too much impor tance to a word or a look, as if we have a guaran tee for tomorrow, and postponing all of these to the next day; even worse, blurting out a word without thinking and then spending a lifetime however long it may be reliving that moment over and over again, every day, every second; that is the torment of hell. Being trapped inside a memory like a filling that can’t escape…