2/10/13

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Dear Diary,

Funny how earlier I said there's no chance of seeing him in this packed Espresso Cafe, yet he's here in front of me, eating a muffin and drinking decaf. H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S. Because it's packed, the only empty seat is the one in front of me.  Of course, I couldn't say no when he asked if he could join. Yay. Just my luck.

He just sat there, grading papers, occasionally glancing my way and here I am, trying to pay attention to the narcissist who feels no remorse for his victims that unfolds in my laptop screen. 

"So, Traineer, why aren't you grading these papers at home?" I asked. Why can't he just do this at his own house, where he's in the presence of his soon to be bride, the girl who he will soon wake up to, who he will soon argue about what dinner should be on the table, who he will soon argue on what toppings should be on the pizza, who he will marry and spend the rest of his life with.

I stopped writing, to look up and meet his green gaze. I looked back down to write exactly what he said, “I love it here and everyone here, too. It's peaceful in a way." I probably look like a weirdo. He probably thinks that I am so madly in love with him that I am writing everything he says in my diary... Which is what I'm doing right now. Gosh. What a pathetic loser I am.

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