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A storyette…

She was always so busy with her own things. The books, the meetings, the activities. All of these monopolized her time. It was time she could’ve been spending with me–time that we could’ve been together. I tried to understand her point of view about things but sometimes I wondered to myself where her priorities lay. There were so many important things in her life back then that I wondered if there was even enough room for one more–me.

Perhaps it was simply foolish insecurities that sparked these musings. Despite any questions on my part, I did my best to support her through everything she did–even when it meant I couldn’t be with her.

I didn’t mind it much–all the time that I didn’t get to see her. I filled my days with chores, work, and hobbies. It all seemed well worth it those nights when we acutally could be together. We’d hold each other long into the night, locked in a passionate embrace, discovering each other anew.

Then again, sometimes she’d lay in bed with work to do. She’d sit reading something she needed for the next day’s class or working on a term paper due in several days. Still, this was our time together, and I made the most of it by nuzzling against her petite frame. I’d rub my cheek against her arm a couple times–just to make sure she knew I loved her, and just watch her.

Sometimes she’d pause for awhile and pull her hair, which usually hung limp around her shoulders, back and smooth it out, as if untangling the knots of frustration and weariness that obstructed her progress. She always did her best to finish, because she always wanted to spend as much of her time on me as she could. I still thank her dearly for that.

I didn’t realize how she felt at first–of course. I suppose I didn’t know her as well as I should have. Those sidelong glances she gave me in between lines of a passage; the way she’d rest her hand on my arm a bit before placing it back on her material; how she’d soflty smile when I’d huddle closer; these all spoke of her love. I guess it just takes time to learn to understand the signs people give you.

Whoops, she’s staring at me now…it’s definitely one of those come-hither looks. Gotta go…

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