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Emma-conner-1434879
Tides (WWC #9)
Emma Conner Released 7 hours ago

The distant ticking of the clock eventually coaxed me back to the land of the living, so to speak. I raised my head, blinking rapidly to clear my sleep-fogged eyes. I could feel the gritty accumulated gunk in the corners of them, but made no effort to wipe it away. Belatedly, I noted that I had apparently fallen asleep slumped at the kitchen table. Again. The apartment was dark. The few shafts of light that snuck in through the corners of the black fabric I had taped over the windows suggested it was daytime. I didn't see any real distinction between day and night anymore. Just long stretches of time where nothing really happened. All that separated them was light.


          To me, time was like the tides. Sometimes close - like now - and other times far away, unimportant, a line on the horizon. When I'm high the tide is out, when I'm sober it's in, overwhelming me: 10 am, 1pm, Tuesday, Wednesday, April, May. All the emotions I have kept at bay are back and heavier than ever, a great crashing wave of feeling.


          I felt that happening now. Regret, always the front runner, was nipping at my heels already. And following on from that was Paul and the whole disastrous weekend. Prior to the last two days, I had stubbornly clung to our happy memories (ah, that famous smile of his), but now all that I could picture when I thought of him was that strange look of pity and revulsion. I couldn't seem to purge that expression from my memory.


          My hands were shaking. My body was demanding its nourishment. I finally wiped the crusted sleep out of my eyes and set about fixing...

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Dear [NAME],


I feel that it would be good for both of us if we don't see each other anymore. 


This is because [CHOOSE FROM THE FOLLOWING]


a) We've drifted apart

b) I'm cheating on you

...

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