justice. 12 of 22.

January 4, 2011 Posted by the writer

justice

You must know that I wanted to chase you. Follow you off the train. Tell that dreadful red-head beckoning you to seek other interests.

Tell you all of this then.

But that was impossible. Too many consequences.

I was concerned you might mistake my keen balance of emotion and rationality as being phlegmatic. I sent you three dozen long stem roses with no card. When you asked the red-head who sent them, you received a bashful smile and eye-blink in return.

Knowing that didn’t make me jealous. I am not a jealous person.

Do you understand our history in this city yet?

I wanted to tell you sooner.

The day that I moved in with Anthony was a harmonious relief. “I am so happy you’re finally here,” he said. “How perfect that we chose now to begin.”

Anthony and I started offering discrete channeling services. We contacted lost children for estranged parents, lovers for their abandoned partners, siblings for the lonely best friend they left behind.

People put the faith of God in us. Neither one of us understood that. When your purpose is to help, you don’t second guess why. And besides, the more I practiced, the more comfortable I became with pieces of my reason, the closer you became.

Do you know how many lives we have shared in this city?

About the writer

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gretchen's brain is preoccupied with words.

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