November 21st, Year 22

Though I have always known that I am a woman who feels immediately or never at all, this affection for a man whose life is a mystery to me is shocking. Every pulse seems tied to, and piloted by him. Life has brought me a man who behaves in ways that lack pattern and sense.

The attention he gave me in excess, has come to an abrupt end. I sit here, being eaten alive by my own irritation. Still, I look to the phone as if his decency would resurrect. Still, I put my ear to the door, listening for his voice. Still, I hang on to the belief that he will pay me a visit, as was promised.

I admit that I would have cast him aside soon enough, and that it is my pride that has been wounded. He violated my space. One that I had come to believe was the only thing of value in the world. Now that he has made a mess of what I had so carefully arranged, I do not know how to proceed.

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November 21st, Year 22

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