Three-thirty in the morning. just call your sweetheart, very loving (and even more drunk), saying that she loves him very much and that in a while he comes home, he is with his friends having a great time and reminding every moment, he says he would like them to be together. As he looks out the window to see if a car comes, passes the large mirror in the room, can not avoid being seeing its own image. Ala a bitch, how I gained weight! says again. He has said several times that day, trying to accept it and play it down, even in the face of grief that always precedes a sigh. Four least five. over in bed. Although stayed home by choice to sleep at home - your loved one if he had asked her out with her friends - has not been sleeping nearly nothing. Fear always. I imagine someone making eyes, those eyes of cute drunk that seem so cute when they are for someone else. Four-thirty in the morning. Try master anxiety. If I stayed here, was to be alone, to rest, because I have confidence. because I have confidence ... I have to learn to trust him. already apologized. I imagine someone whispering in his ear "I really like going to the bathroom." Five quarter. Beats the anxiety. Brand number. sounds. ticks. Your sweetheart does not answer. may not listened. No problem. I have a confidence . Five-twenty. Open your eyes. slept at least a little while. deep breath. Five and a half. Le heart is pounding. Redial the number of your sweetie. Hello? "Hello, my beautiful love," says his sweetheart, in a drunken voice so drunk he barely understands. Where are you? "I spent eating pizza with the gang, I'm there, love. I love you, you hear? ". Turns to bed. Try to sleep. come here now, thank God . over in bed. rose to hear a car. was not ours. How strange, said it was too soon. Six and a quarter. Your sweetie has yet to arrive. How inconsiderate . Refrain tears of anger and concern. sounded very bolus. What if it was to do shit? "I call again? Better not be angry. They'll fuck her friends will think I'm psycho. It should not take. over in bed. going to the bathroom. sits nearly 20 minutes in the toilet without anything coming out. back to the room and lies down. over in bed. I imagine moaning, kissing someone else. over in bed. Hey pass another car. No, not him . Say a quick prayer because it has happened to nothing. Try not to think that last week he found a suspicious message on the phone. it hurt. Try not to mourn. again is ashamed of having reviewed the phone, never had. I imagine groaning with pleasure. Seven-fifteen. You hear park. pretends to be asleep. You hear directly enter the bathroom, undress, wash. It takes in washing. I feel closer to the bed, lying far away, looking for the other side. Feel the smell of booze. also claims not to feel that it smells like saliva and to ass. rose to the bathroom. Somat the door. silently weeps. The drunk did not even see the piece of paper on his pillow that said I LOVE YOU with blue fluorescent marker. O saw it and did not care . Sale bath. "Stop making noise," shouts the drunk. Take the car keys, leaving the parking lot, opened the door. Go the napkins crumpled in the front seat. are bent and sticky. Take a , smells. Semen. feels like your heart is squeezed. Cry. back home. I must not think evil. I trust him. Maybe it was one of the dogs of friends . back to bed. What is asleep, helpless. ear was about and said very softly: I love you, mango. Forgive me for doubting ... never let me . "Shhhhhh!" Makes your sweetie, with an angry face.
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