I woke up at a quarter to two in the morning--to the clashing of swords.
The movie I had been watching ended up watching me instead.
I would have followed you, my brother. My captain. My king.
Three arrows in him, and he could still hold a meaningful conversation. Boromir is not an easy man to kill.
Be at peace, son of Gondor.
In the books, they laid him in one of their boats and set him adrift. He eventually fell off the edge of a waterfall.
A quarter to two in the morning, and I woke up to a death scene.
A death scene, then the realization that I'd missed three text messages from le monsieur.
For the umpteenth time, I was upset. I'd failed yet again.
A plush toy flew across the room. It landed on the cat. Surprisingly enough, she didn't stir.
At that moment, I hated her. Fat, lazy creature. I hated the fact that she could lay in that corner and sleep soundly without a care in the world, while I fought the urge to pull my hair out in anger.
Me and my mood swings. I might've been a she-Hulk in a past life.
A more plausible explanation for it would be this: I needed a hug, but no one was there.
It's that simple.
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