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His name was Graham, his and my eyes were looking into each others. I continued to smile and pretend everything was fine but my heart was sinking. Sure it was just a name and Graham is nothing special but surely it could not be a coincident...

Graham Martin (my Graham I was thinking) would probably be older than this young man in front of me. Hell, this guy can´t be much older than me and on that winternight almost 6 years ago Graham Martin had already has some grey around his temples and a short goatee with some silver-colouring in it.

No...It waws just a freak occurence. Can´t be anything special about this except that I have feelt awful more and more sick these weeks and that I just can´t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

I continued to talk about nothing special with the man in front of me but inside my head I was far away. I had almost forgot where I was going when my stop was coming up.
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From a treebranch the squirrel was eyeing the two legged being, who was climbing the steep section of this mountain, above her home tree. She watched the figure with care thinking if this was a new bad thing happenening.

Her young ones would have been around a month old around this time but they were all gone since that hawkattack. She glanced back at her dwelling and then down at the figure who she dimly recognised as a human from a long ancestreal memory. Her male squirrel counterpart had left her before she gave birth, it had been a hard summer.

Maybe it was the traumatic experience from the loss of her young ones that made her discard all her reason to stay safe in her home tree. She climbed down and started follow the human who was trying to reach the peak of the mountain with such determination. In doing so she made her first un-squirell-like behaviour and lifechanging choice. She would make many more before the day was over.

She approached slowly from behind, her instinct was at least strong enough to make her not want to be seen by this human who she now assumed was a "he" despite not really sure why. They all looked the same to her.

This "he" was all alone so far as she could see but what was more importantly she could smell something familiar coming from the large backpack he was carrying.

It seemed heavy and full of things, could there be food for her inside of that?

The lonely hearted

help, either with some promotion or even some practical advice to improve my writing.

Ellie would laugh her socks off if she could hear these thoughts. Ask her about Bren and she could reel off a dozen stories of drunken embarrassment, missed dates, disappointments and silences which were uncomfortable for me, but of which he was oblivious as he dozed behind his dark glasses.

Grrrr! The fury rises up in me again. Why do I do this? Every time I start to calm down my thoughts fall back into a pattern of all the times I should have asserted myself, all the times I should have called an end to his casual treatment of me. Why did I allow myself to be put through it all, only to be cast aside? Why am I unable to function as a complete, individual person? Why can't I stop shackling myself to unsuitable other halves? Oh I'm sick of myself today.

Okay it's time to get some perspective, this is unhealthy and my head space is starting to turn toxic. Ellie - I need to call her.
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How had this happened? Abigail passed a few dark corridors on each side but she ran straight ahead. A fear of darkness. No, to say that Ms Abigail was afraid of darkness would be like saying that Jesus was slightly bummed out when he was nailed to the cross as it is told by the holy book.

It was so dark, and yet she ran from the only major lightsource down here beneath the streets of Paris. She thanked her strong will and that fact that she never gave up smoking. Otherwise the zippolighter (a gift from her older brother when he came back military duty all those yeas ago) would not be in her hand and she would have been forced to run in blindness.

It kept on following her, she knew it, she could her it! The smell in this place was awful and she felt claustrophobic.
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