Dear Robbie,

5.03

Colours: the muffin man, the muffin man... e.e Mr. Muffin Man
This part is one of them long ones; I am suspicions...
Hope you like it.

5.03

The sleeping arrangement has not changed, Robbie. Today I am to spend all day with Richard.

Robbie, it is dark out as I write this; the moonlight cascades through the wind as a fresh, rose wind blows in. Richie has peppered me with nothing but love and compliments, showered me with kisses and new-love wishes.

He has not been this way in a long time.

My heart stutters and quakes with something akin to child glee—when receiving a new toy for Christmas.

He cooked breakfast like he had in our earlier years—my favourite petals scattered on the disheveled bed as we lied.

I licked his finger as he fed me ripe, juicy grapes, felt his hardness press against my hip.

Oh, how the Goddesses have blessed my Richie with a Sword-Smith-strong libido.

We spent some time in the garden, wandering the expansive paths.

We shared fond memories and Richard not once let go of my hand, always holding onto my person at one point or another.

We made love once more under the fig trees. Sweat drenched and limb-sore, we lied there and Richie once more begged for forgiveness whispering my name like a prayer in between salt-wine kisses.

I cannot give that yet, but I am working up to it; I just question if his ways will last.

Charles was not present today as the agreement states.

Richard plans to take me out at some point this week.

I have not seen the town in quite a while.

I wonder if Miss Dolores, is still with her husband or has she ditched him for Hillary, her assistant in the Bakery.

Though I do love Miss Dolores' baked goods, her husband/ex-husband?, makes a rather creamy, scrumptious doughnut. They always carry this signature taste like I've never tasted elsewhere.

Robbie, I must say, Mr. Shadow, has been lingering in corners lately—an aberration of long limbs and an empty face. His bright violet eyes follow me as I move. My core aches when our eyes meet—odd, and unknown is this spine-tingling feeling. Every now and again his ghastly, ice hand will meet my neck and I am left with a feeling of winter nights and forgotten days.

His voice so clear in my mind.

“SOON"

Colours: my sinuses are bugging meh Dx.