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It's going to have something that has to be true said - things that could break any newly-forged deals. She always had to put a disclaimer on any potential happiness she may encounter.
And this was different than anything in eons.
This made her sit up. This made her pay attention. This made her put a stake in the game. She didn't know what to do all the time and spun around like Robbie the robot flummoxed in the folds of feeling.
The geranium outside had one healthy bud and the rest were heating out or drying out. She had watered it all the time - like the fucking pine tree potted next to her. She got so frustrated when she would spray the spray and wipe the thing but it never came clean.
Digressing as a defense for life. She was there for it, and it fascinated her sometimes about her craft that she never knew wetly what would come out of her flesh onto this screen. She wanted more than anything to document her love.
She shouldn't be using that word. It had been forbidden to her by a cranky young man, but fuck it. Fucking was so fucking empty.
"It's so sexy that you are so prepared for this."
She had been shocked because she had thought she was about to tell him something deal break-y - something shameful. She was going to tell him that she couldn't be a perfect geisha because she might stain the sheets.
And through the all of it - the things she won't tell you. She's choosing to be confused. She's choosing to not pin the butterfly. (she wants it to live its day). She keeps baking. She keeps feeling inspired to suck the marrow from this humans rib.
It may be nothing.
"What do you like about him?"
"I love his mind. I love that he has boundaries. I love that he doesn't lead me on and is straight up. I recognize him, and I don't know why I want to bake like a donna reed for him, but I do."
He could grow to loathe her. He could be so irritated by everything she does. He might think she's ugly. He may just be getting one over on her.
She was in.
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