I love this feeling. The feeling of knowing you've got a pretty girl somewhere out there who can only think about you.
I lean back on the old sofa, my feet stretched over the naff glass coffee table strewn with plastic wrappers from my last few meals. The TV's on - some rubbish soap that bears no relation to real life whatsoever - but I'm not watching it. I'm thinking about her.
She was so beautiful. Lots of girls on Earth are beautiful, and now I usually think once you've seen one, you've seen them all. But not with her.
On Earth, I'm only really interested in what a girl looks like. I don't care what's inside their head. But with her, is was different. She was so clever, and so funny. She laughed a lot. She saw inside me like no one else I knew. And though she didn't always like what she saw, she stood by me, no matter what.
I can't think of her without smiling. I can't think of her without tearing up.
That's why I don't usually think about her at all.
It was a while ago, now. I remember the pain, mostly. Both physical and mental. I still have the scars.
I wonder if she'd hate me if she saw me now. I think she would. That makes me sad.
Sometimes I think that Paradise is no paradise at all. It's a prison. All my life, all I've done has been His bidding. And then when I want to have a life of my own-
That's all behind me now.
My phone buzzes, and I pick it up off the coffee table. I can't help smiling when I see it's a text from Sarah. Very simply, it reads:
c u 2morrow sxx
Yes. I will see her tomorrow.
But I won't ever see Elisabetta again.