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The weather was that time of year where it was 45 for a low then 74 for a high. She was dressed in double wool with a beanie hat to combat the cold inside her uninsulated charity home.
It was everything she could do to not text him. She had already thought of three things she could mention: the burgers, the apples, the white Lilly flour. The robot told her she had to remain firm though. She was now trusting AI with her love life.
More importantly, the buds outside her window were blooming. Maybe she could survive this. One of her favorite parts is that she didn't want to ceaselessly kill herself to end the pain. She started to go over her conversation yesterday. She had been slightly tipsy, but she would have been effusive sober as a judge. She loved this man with every ounce of her soldier's soul.
The game was on at 7pm. She had already calculated that it was possible for him to drive down by 4pm. Would he want to? Would he be brave enough to admit that he wanted her? Did he want her? So many carousel questions.
She was typing so she wouldn't be tempted to look at the phone again. Obviously, there were plenty of chores she could do to keep herself distracted, but cleaning was always the last resort just before he came.
She touched his based ball and remembered the last time he came. They usually made love twice every time they saw each other. Although the more time that passed, the less base need she supposed - or perhaps he just didn't want her as much.
The thing that rankled her the most she decided was that he still paid for bumble while he was getting his dick wet with her. It was insulting - he was so fookin' frugal - but at this point she was willing to accept any gambit to get him back into her realm.
She looked at the daisy to the left of her. She had just learned that daisies' traditional meaning was "my love for you is true."
She tried so hard to not try.
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