She sat, on the eve of his return, waiting less than patiently for time to pass. Artificial light flooded the room through the plain beige lampshade; a white ceiling fan turned above her head. Music played through the speakers of her computer, but the lyrics were not heard. Instead she sat, stomach churning, unable to wrench her mind from fantasies of him. She was nervous— god, was she nervous. The insecurities that she had managed to avoid for so long were finally hitting her, inundating her heart with the full force of a tsunami. She knew her fears were unfounded; he had been sending her bounties of postcards and emails in an attempt to satisfy that unquenchable craving he had for any type of contact with her. But they were quick messages and nothing more. And it didn’t help that she had sent him a package to be opened upon his advent, filled with her love, filled with her vulnerability. It was a heartbreak waiting to happen or a happy ending about to consummate.

submitted by -legilimens.

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