Sunday, 16 April 2017


It happened in Paris.

It had taken me months to convince her to have a day or so apart. She was so sure that I wanted to go to Moulin Rouge or something. I kept pointing out how she hated art galleries, which is what I wanted to do. Finally convinced her.

I had a wonderful day, until I went to meet back up with her at the café we picked.

Even without the stack of plates, and the scraps of chocolate and pastry, I could recognize a binge, and thus an angry comedown would follow soon.

I was tired.

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