Watch me dance like a puppet.

Not sleeping too much, don't see too much point, sleep, wake up early and then what? And then what? Nothing. Move around the house like a zombie. So cold, so empty, so cold. Does no one else realise how cold it is? And here I am in my bare skin. The girl was walking, smiling, counting her own steps. A smirk, like she knows a secret; a swift glance, she knows a secret about me. Spreads to the rest of the pack. Counting her steps. I didn't know what I was doing. Sorry I walked right past, it was highly rude of me.

You should pursue her, obtain her, make her your own. She's even more attractive than the other one. (Love her so I don't feel so guilty for doing so.) And surely, he seem convinced. He had plans, he said, to marry her, to marry her sisters, and even marry her mother. Though I do congratulate myself, it takes a high degree of intelligence to genuinely make a man treasure a relatively unattractive girl over a relatively attractive one.

He wrote to her by the murky waters. He initiated, he tried talking to her, he made an effort; something he seldom ever did. Her maid told me us the mistress burnt the letter. He told himself he would never love again.

Of course, we all laughed.