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She was in her bedroom pacing. I found her paranoia perplexing. A simple missed call had put her into an inconsolable state. Attempting to separate my own melancholy from the situation, I tried to reason with her but she was in no mood for logic. I glanced down at the floor and noticed that the ashtray was filled with smoked cigarettes. My eyes darted back at her again when she convinced me that I couldn’t understand. She told me that a series of unfortunate events had left her exhausted and, yet, she found it impossible to rest. Once I realized that my presence only aggravated her more, I decided to leave. I gently closed the door hoping that she would be able to sleep and awaken what pieces of her that were left…


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