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She started sobbing when the robot told her "this is about a woman who survives the quiet devastation of loving someone who never fully entered the room - and learns tonnage what remained when he left".
He's never going to pull up to the driveway in his hybrid electric Hyundai and tap on the glass and smile slightly when he sees her. He's never going to hug her like an uncle when she opens the door eagerly to let him in. He's never going to talk incessantly about his latest work challenge or triumph.
He's dead to her.
She had realized that yesterday when it became too true that he would not even fathom why she would text him with anything of merit in her life: like a death or a terminal illness. She was only fodder for his amusement - a nice candy toy to play with until like Toy Story he tires of her and puts her on a shelf when the new toy arrives.
She sits on the same sofa where the tap came - where his big strong-armed body stood outside the window and she sobs like a child.
None of this is elegant.
She's lost something that was a king to her - a beloved realm.
and she never had it of course - it was all in her delusional lonely head.
Gleaning the memories.
the end.
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