Sticks and Bones

The first part of a chronicle of a crush-turned-obsession. I'm sorry, Julie.


To experience this in natural reading order go to A Bright, Ironic Hell: The Straight Read .


Also, try Satellite Dance and Crystal Delusions--Parts 2 and 3, respectively--complete.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Out with the Cat, In with the Elephant (9/23/08 Tuesday)

Today was hardly better, just shorter due to the contrasting shifts. She said, "Hi, Dion," and I said, "Hi, Julie," and that was the extent of our conversation over the four-and-a-half hours of our mutual presence in the building. (Tomorrow may be the same, for the same reason, in reverse.)

I began to think about things to talk about Saturday after we'd set it up, but the strategizing seemed as pointless as ever. I decided, then, that I would simply be honest: "Julie, you fascinate me, and I'd like to get to know you better." That is all I'm sure I'll say, and it's enough. If that doesn't lower her guard, well, I can say I gave it my best shot. But I'm not going to walk away without her knowing how I feel. I've pussyfooted long enough. For a few days yet, anyway.

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