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There were no curtains in her home on any windows.
The pendulum prism had already done its thing. She had missed it. The bowl of mushrooms was still leftover from yesterday. She hoped she just wouldn't need to eat today to make up for the shoving of carbs she had done so prolifically in the last few kind of tormented days.
She walked to the bathroom window to see if the deer had emerged. Still not seeing them, she walked back to her screen and lit up something. Can you ruin something by just not believing you're worthy of love? She suspected the answer was yes. Once again, she allowed - would it be more accurate to say admitted - that she had sneakily self-sabotaged the first person she'd seen from her tribe in a while. What must he have thought of her? She might never know. She collected shards and strings and started every sentence with her as the protagonist.
Where was he in this? What did he mean when he told her about the mask? What did he think about? She had loved that he called her on the ole telephone, yet 100% of the time, upon hanging up she was like "god, that was a boring conversation, and I blame my fucking self. Why can't I just be real?"
It was going to have to be OK that she was likely going to be alone. Her eyes were tired. She had finished his book the night before, but had been too shy to even tell him because she thought "I'm not going to quadruple text him."
Those sorts of games were now over. It wasn't at all certain that he would ever give her the time of day again, yet she hoped he did - and if he did - he would find that she was a little less subservient . She was definitely going to let him play.
Where the fuck could that second ball be? She was confounded by it. What had she been doing? She had been playing and tasting. She pulled at her hair almost incessantly and was a mess. Upon ordering her nutritional yeast from the 'zon, she remembered all those frames she had looked at to try and give him a moment of his mother. Now, that fucking dried daisy was a constant mockery - like the candle. Like the baseball (the one left in the yellow cup). Obviously, she was already considering it deadski as a doornail. (while fervently hoping behind the curtain/mask she could be revealed as something real).
The moment he wanted to retreat from her, she had been poised to drop the ax she had been holding since act I. It was all so hackneyed, and she was embarrassed.
It couldn't help but contrast with the former ones - since she had begun this odyssey of trying to find someone to hang with: one she had gotten through retirement... one through divorce... and this one through mother-death. Perhaps that was her use - all the while feeling different things for all of them.
The third one was the charm however, he was the real deal. She had been so fucky with him because it mattered the most with him. It was hilarious to even imagine that she had liked cop Dave. He was a fine person, but what scraps and contortions to fit into that mold. And the Macon man, he taunted her with shallow tendrils that she never got from #3.
Would it have killed Noah to say "good morning" or "what are you doing?" or "good luck on that presentation." Of course not, but he was as true to himself as she was not.
Her friend Karen had dropped her the most loving thing, and she took a screenshot of it, the gist was "forgive forgive forgive. you are so fucking special and you need to remember who you are right now. I love you."
She wasn't sure what it meant, but she loved like a puppy being seen sort of.
One ball left to play.
It's possible that he will miss her in her absence. It's possible that some glimmer of herself was emitted that he captured. She knows like a beacon that something was real.
As all the songs say, the waiting is the very hardest part.
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