Post by Maggie Brice on Mar 30, 2007 15:23:32 GMT -5
On her bed, Maggie lay on her back, with a letter in her hand.
For a while she lay, staring at the ceiling.
She wondered what had happend in all those dinner's and dates, in the times they held hands and kissed, that made everything go wrong.
Maggie always had the last word in all her relationships.
Except now.
She felt small, and insignificant.
It wasn't his fault no ... she didn't think that. He was perfect. He had always been perfect.
It was her fault, her misunderstanding.
She thought perhaps she should go take a walk, or do something that would make her feel better.
Instead she curled up under her blanket, and went over every detail. Wondering where she could have gone wrong, and how she hadn't seen it coming.
For a while she lay, staring at the ceiling.
She wondered what had happend in all those dinner's and dates, in the times they held hands and kissed, that made everything go wrong.
Maggie always had the last word in all her relationships.
Except now.
She felt small, and insignificant.
It wasn't his fault no ... she didn't think that. He was perfect. He had always been perfect.
It was her fault, her misunderstanding.
She thought perhaps she should go take a walk, or do something that would make her feel better.
Instead she curled up under her blanket, and went over every detail. Wondering where she could have gone wrong, and how she hadn't seen it coming.
