le 16 mars 1982 (tôt le matin)
Since last night, my mind has been racing. Things are happening so fast between Tim and I, but I wouldn't stop them for the world. I have dated many men, but no one like him.
I think Sylvie would have liked him. Lately, I've been thinking of her more and more and wondering if this is how she felt about Brand. I've also been feeling guilty for how I treated her. If someone was treating me in that fashion regarding Tim, there is no doubt our friendship would have suffered. At least we managed to repair it somewhat before the end and I would have never met Francis if it weren't for Sylvie and Brand. If I hadn't met Francis, who knows if I would have met Tim?
My family may not be very happy with this. They liked him when they met him, but I wasn't living with him then. Maybe I should invite Elita to have dinner with us.
I feel ridiculous talking like this. I need to talk to Anne. I don't think Tim would want to move in with the two of us. Decisions are going to be have to made about our apartment. I've gone through so much there and so many roommates. I feel like I will be abandoning her, but I hope she will understand.
Anne, chère, we need to talk today.
Sometimes in the Department, I feel like I am back in Potions class at Beauxbatons. Yesterday, I spilled a little Fascination, but washed it off easily with a bit of Disinterest. However, I started toying with the other emotions. If you take Love (which has to be handled very carefully) and add Hope and Optimism it actually glows a very warm red. However, if you add Jealousy or Doubt, even just a small drop, the colour slowly turns to green, a dark and murky green at that. Not a very pretty colour, I promise you. I tried adding more Hope, Optimism, and even a touch of cinnamon, but it stayed green tinged. That was very sad to me.
Ambition was very interesting too. It is actually a bright blue colour that can be quite pretty. Of course, I know that it may not be as interesting as treating someone who finds their hands suddenly turned around (how you can sign into St. Mungo's like that, I still want to know!) or someone with other bizarre shattered bones. I like it anyway.
I think I need a haircut.