Matt's friend wishes to meet me on Friday, that we may "angst" together.

Are you jealous?

Matt tells me it has been too long since I wrote in this ( Read more... )

Yesterday gave us some breathing space.

We have not yet spoken of whether we will return to New York City or bide here a few more days. We have rarely spoken.

I wonder, looking out on the clearing, if he can smell which blades of grass were watered by Bullseye's blood, and which were watered by mine.

And what does it mean if he can?

He was unconscious for so long. I did not want to trust a hospital. Hospitals do not hire adequate security guards. And he keeps supplies here, in his apartment ( Read more... )

I found him. He did not leave me clues as I expected. It was no game ( Read more... )

Every night for the last week he has been leaving a rose and a bottle of wine on my windowsill. Whenever I decide to retrieve them, I see him sitting on the rooftop, holding two glasses, waiting for me to join him. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I simply take the rose and wine inside. But always I have seen him.

It has been good wine.Tonight the ( Read more... )

He continues to confound me ( Read more... )

He should not have kissed me. It would've been better had he killed me. Simpler. Easier on him, in the long run. One day he will realize that.

He says he has chosen to fight for me, and a future that I believe is a handful of ashes. They will taste bitter to him before he gives up.

After our fight, he took off one of his gloves, the hand he ( Read more... )

She sits at another booth with Matt.

Do you still wish to weep for my return?