She scolds her suitors savagely for their solipsism. There is no room for fervent letters of any flavor in her heartbox. It's hard to confess any succession of affections against brick-and-mortar walls. So I steal pieces of her a little at a time. Not when she isn't looking-- but just when she lets me. When the weathervane whispers favorability.
And I try to move very slowly and honestly. So as not to sour or startle her.
8:32 p.m. - 2016-11-09
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