The Emotions

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 The next time we met, she was reading a cold, soggy book. She didn't realize at the time why the pages in the book were wet. I knew why the book was wet ,and I hoped she would soon realize; however, she never did. She had forgotten about me once again. I have endeavored a different approach this time. I thought maybe it was my personality she had grown tired of. I tried to act like a different person, but her face told me she did not prefer that person. It was too late by then; she had already composed an opinion of me.
Since her opinion could not be swayed, I spent time with her as a friend. It was a small price to pay just to be near her. I told her my story for the third time; however, I changed some parts to fit my new, false demeanor. The pages in her book slowly dried up. Her book was now damaged, but she didn't stop reading it. I thought maybe this time would be different. I thought this time she would stay. She did not.

The last time we met, of course, she didn't remember me. This is when I realized what happens when she leaves. I became obsessed with finding a way to prevent her from forgetting again. I began writing down all of our experiences so when she read it, her memory might return to her. I switched my tactic of telling my story to make her fall in love with me to telling our story. I am not sure if it works yet; however, I am sure I will find out soon. I can see her now and my surroundings are becoming clear. The oak tree has started to produce enormous, scarlet apples. She is beginning to realize who she is now.    

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