Tonight my thought was elsewhere, forgive me. Tonight as you lay writhing in your strange bed in your strange home where you do not belong, in this new world where the words in your mind do not reach your lips, I was busy with pleasant conversation. I allowed myself to wander elsewhere, to feel his skin against my fingertips and to shiver in anticipation of the next move.
It seems cruel that our lives will continue, will resume, will remain pretty much as normal, when your hell is still so very near.
I am sorry.
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