Lonely
We were in the little Inn in Dartmoor, the wild romantic Dartmoor, as it is called.
I'm hearing the light snoring next to me.
John's sleeping.
Good.
I've hurt him.
I've used him.
Not good.
What now?
What's that? Have I got feelings, sympathy?
What have you done to me, John?
He is my friend.
My only friend.
But he's more for me.
Am I in love with him?
I don't know.
I have no comparison.
The only Consulting Detective can't deduce himself.
I'm lonely.
"John?"
He's turning round while sleeping and is putting his arm around me.
Very good!