September 1st, 2015

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September 1st, 2015

         "She was up when I got home from work, around three in the morning; but she wasn't fighting to stay awake. No, Ophelia had drank far too much coffee, and she was almost giddy. Though she is an optimistic person almost all the time, it was entertaining to say the least to see her like this. We talked until the sun came up, we talked until she had to leave for work, and that was when she began to crash.

         She's at work now, but I can't stop thinking about her. I'll get up and tidy the house, head to the market later. But right now, I just need to soak in everything. She's told me many times that she is happy here, with me, but last night really proved it to me. I truly, deeply believe that she is happy here with me. This is the first time she has ever had a job, a home, regular meals, no poisons and tests done on her. Of course I can relate in a way, because I remember those days (even though I was always treated better). But once again, I was not subjected to these things until I was considered dead to the world. I had good years, I wonder if she ever did. If there were some days of hope in her youth; there had to have been, how else could she be the person she is today if she never knew empathy?

         Maybe I should talk to her about that, though I don't know if bringing up the past will be a healthy thing. She always seems okay, willing to talk about anything; maybe there was something she can remember from when she was young. A sympathetic guard, perhaps?

       Unlikely.

       But I want to know everything about her."

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