I can't decide what I believe, and I believe in nothing.
I know not Morpheus's motivation for even calling the dance agency that night, why he arranged for me to meet him at that house.
Did we know each other before online?
The next time I saw him, he looks down while sitting on the floor next to the couch, and says, "I love you."
I believe nothing, and care about less.
I have my c.
I have my warpath. EVeryone must get one of their very own. d. I marched around, ran around, ranting and raving, swinging around some imaginary arms, crazed with a fiery madness you see in focused individuals who have been pushed to it.
But this story has only one side, only one or two characters. There were two men. ONe in July. One in August. d. That was the history.
I fell in the bar walking towards the back. ON my way out. But then I walked around, and I found Howard sitting on the bench right outside the front door. He gave me an awkward smile. He's huge sitting on a bench at probably more than 6' 3". In my memory, he's larger and larger. He has perfect skin.
Howard is gone. MOrpheus is gone too.
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