THE OBSESSIVE FASCINATION

n a bit like giving a present with a friendly smile. A gift, even poorly chosen, gives pleasure, brings a litt

btedly give a taste of bitterness in his mouth as if he had a drunk whole salty

characterizes me in all ingenuity. I reread my letter calmly. Shutters were closed. I didn't want any distraction from the outside, no noise, no smile

table. My writing is clear, despite the tension that was driving me. It looks feminine. I observe this sheet full of reproaches one last time. But can he blame me for wanting to run away from his love? Bird

ecognize the footsteps of people nearby. One more thing I have in common with cats. I hear his hurried footsteps on the stairs that will lead him to the third floor, left door. I can already predict the conversation. He will ask me how my day went. I will

ut my heart stopped vibrating for him . As for the advantages, I struggled. I racked my brains to extract something of value and ticked: kindness. Kindness

t from the landscape. Agnès. What a sweet name. There is a slight hint that gives her the status of an experienced woman. I think I like it. I like th

lence my thoughts and pick them up later, during the night when he snores, and even the neighbor b

w my approach is awkward, but I am so taken ab

always have your nose in your notebooks, jotting down lots o

gning of juicy contracts? I feel like we're ready to chat for an extended part of the evening, I told

m. I find it to be the most impersonal. Unlike Carole, I never made love in the living room. I don'

sure at the bottom of the ocean. He forgets that I am anythin

simple after-work-style conversation? Am I that intimidating? And the letter, by the way? Where did that damn letter

he window to let in some fresh air. I feel oppressed. I don't know

I think we deserve something more. Your parents came to

nd me of something! Avoid red wine on a