I don't own people, facts or brand. It's 2 am and I own only my mad mind. I'm sorry for you.

Tell me what do you think about it, if and when you want. When being the key word, I hope.

SEDUCED AND ABANDONED

It's better, when she's in town.

You can feel the difference, even though he tries to hide it.

They decided on not spreading the news, yet. But you can feel the difference. Less tension, less pressure.

He makes you run anyway, of course. And what kind of run! Yeah, that's the point. What kind? When she's in town, if you notice it, you can hear him humming. He won't admit it ever, but there are times when he hums. When she's in town, his fingers are never still, his pace is light.

When she's in town, you can let your guard down: there won't be any awful surprises. He won't drag you for hours like that, for the sadistic pleasure of...He won't make you face ice and mud, because when she's in town, strangely, it looks like the sun should always shine.

When she's in town, you feel a stab of jealousy.

Thin.

You know the way, you went through it thousands of times, you almost hated it, before and after...that. At first, with uncertain, worn out pace, he made you wait all night long outside her door, there in Georgetown. Going to and fro, to, fro again, waiting for a road not taken. Then, almost flying, overcoming the steps with a confidence you had yet to see in him.

For a moment you wondered about it being your prize. You wondered if your relationship, your mutual trust made of efforts and sweat, was the source of such a confidence. But he left you, on the threshold.

For her.

Quite tyrannical, isn't he? And he didn't ask your opinion, ever. He ordered, and you obeyed. How could you possibly rebel against him? He tied you up, hopelessly.

But it's better, actually, when she's in town. You can't complain. He wasn't your type, acknowledge it.

You like knotty guys. But a little less bruised, maybe.

And when she's in town, and you are bound to be the third wheel, there on the floor, you can socialize, can't you?

And there are these two twins, at her flat...they must be your age, even though they haven't been seeing all of the adventures you witnessed, maybe...you have yet to decide which one you like more, but the two of them have this quite distinguishing tattoo.

Three red stripes, on the side, and a word. You had the same stitched on you, way too long ago.

Fate?

No, Adidas.