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The air was bitter and cold...but it was sweet. A sweet, cool air was the only thing capable of bringing me to a full consciousnous when the moon was full and my bones ached and my head spiraled down into dark, unforgotten memoires. 

But it did not matter. for I was alive and as well to the world as a young woman should be.

But I was not well.
I am not well. 

I am a fool as bitter as the wind. How could I have ever believed, even for a moment, that you had ever truly loved me? When you left me out in that cold, beneath the dawn...alone with only your haphazard words hanging in the air to console my aching confusion. Why did you do it? Did you mean it? Why? 

But such thoughts I should not give into to, not here as I roam the stone and concrete streets. Not before the eyes of the many that reside in this quiet town. No, no I musn't think of you or what you said that night. 


ps; these are Penelope's musings, not my own. You do all remember my dear Penelope, do you? My mindchild (a much funner way to say a character I came up with.)
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