The City Had Defeated Her, Just Like

A Joke Was Not A Single-use Item But Something You Brought Out Again And Again Until It Fell Apart In Your Hand Like A Cheap Umbrella.

Maybe We've Grown Out Of Each Other.

Everything Was Fine, And She Had The Rare, New Sensation Of Being Exactly Where She Wanted To Be.

I'm Just Not Prepared To Be Treated Like This Anymore.' 'treated Like What?' She Sighed, And It Was A Moment Before She Spoke. 'like You Always Want To Be Somewhere Else, With Someone Else.

Sometimes, When It Is Going Badly, She Wonders If What She Believes To Be A Love Of The Written Word Is Really Just A Fetish For Stationary.