March 6th 1976

I placed the ticket under my pillow. I plan on hiding it just as soon as I find a more suitable location. Mom wasn't best pleased with my behaviour, and though I tried to deflect her questions, some of them were difficult to answer. .

I wiped the lipstick off before I got home, but still she seemed to study my face for a long period of time. Eventually I was able to convince her that I took a long walk through the town, even showing her the novel I'd bought.

I'm not sure she was entirely fooled, but it got her out of my hair for a while.

Kaufman never walked me home. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't expected him to, though it's certainly not surprising that he didn't. The man departed without so much as a goodbye, fading once more with the horizon. I felt a little silly, almost abandoned, just standing there amidst the scattering crowds.

But I suppose it's better that way. If mom had seen the two of us waltzing to the front door, I would have struggled to provide an adequate explanation. Despite my previous bluster, I'm still afraid of defying my parents. Especially my mother, who I reluctantly ended up apologizing to. When I saw her face, the courage in me vanished as swiftly as it had arrived.

Regardless, I enjoyed being able to attend the theatre again. I haven't been in such a long time, I'd almost forgotten how happy it made me. For the first time in what seems like an eternity, I was finally able to breathe. It was as though a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders, allowing me to be a normal woman, and not someone who had to to live up to her parents' expectations.

Yet still I ponder about that man. What is he up to? He caressed my hand, and I melted beneath his touch, letting myself be enveloped by the pleasant sensation. But nothing is ever clear, and I'm always left feeling confused and irritated.

It's as though he's placed a chain around my throat, a leash that keeps on getting tighter whenever he and I are in proximity to one another. He snaps his fingers, and I fall at his feet like a loyal lapdog, waiting for his next command.

The whole situation is very jarring, and though I try to put such distracting thoughts out of my mind, I always find myself thinking about him. Every hour of my life is spent wondering what he's doing, where he is, if he's thinking of me like I am him.

Our time together has only made my feelings grow stronger, and if I'm being honest, I sincerely hope that he shares the sentiment.