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She was sure he didn't love her. How on earth could he possibly. She was sure this was just a way to get slot A in Tab B, but she wasn't immune to cuffing season and allowed herself the indulgence of feeling the tiniest bit of joy. Why not.
The orange cat and the piebald cat were eating all the nutritional yeast they could due to the abandonment of their food parents. This pissed Narcissi off something fierce, yet she just had to get through the fucking day. It was going to be hard enough without all the needless drama. Heck, she was about to run a huge meeting from a laptop. After that - tomorrow - she would write her assessment of herself into the corporate record.
It was freezing. Literally.
He had called her again last night, and she had sounded giddy and dumb like always. Who could love such a nutter? The magnolia tree glistened in the rising sun and wind. She loved that they were pollinated by beetles because they were so ancient bees hadn't existed when they were forming. Things like that make her squee.
Her ass was fattening and blood was constantly coming out of her. It was kind of par for her course. Last night, she had tested him a bit with the question she loved for all humanity: what would you do if you were a billionaire who could do anything. She alluded to altered carbon when she poked him with the virgin prostitutes, but in the end he said something that made her love him almost as much as the dissertation on "rules of the game":
"oh, if I'm being honest. I just want to be with my grandchildren - hang out with them - you know the continuum."
It was so different than her answer (the usual bonfire in New Orleans with all her friends and all the conversation excellent and philosophical). In it, she saw something that she didn't often recognize in him - that small quiet thing he had said that what was imposed on him from early childhood was that his line should go on - that the continuum must continue.
She was the child who wasn't supposed to be here - the one the beloved betraying father begged to be an abortion. It made her wonder if perhaps he didn't really even like her because she wasn't a mother - could never like her - because she had never dabbled in the greatest of all experiments.
Obvi, it made her the largest bit sad, but she had already sent him the "I Want a Kid" essay and perhaps he had understood from that. She had declared to the world that she never wanted kids because she never wanted any being to hate her mother as much as she did in that moment.
Said another way, she didn't have a clue.
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