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A paper flower called Waitrose

Tired and paranoid. In a couple of days or weeks, Mioseon will be leaving me. She will be going back home to her country, sipping some nice homebrew beside a familiar table inhaling some familiar cold breeze. Spring has come to her at long last. The long and cold winter of London dragged us both to the point of exhaustion. Despite all, I work my ass off to pay her one lasting memory for the time we met and the circumstances that found us both in each other's arms.

My head feels like it's about to explode, barely slept, restless, and feeling jaded. While working at the Chinese noodle bar (more on that soon), she messaged me via Facebook how she had gone home late and that I need not bother to worry, how it was a 'long story' and how 'there is nothing I should fear because she's okay' and reassures me subtly hints of her strong feeling of fidelity towards me. I had always felt unease every time we part ways, mostly during Fridays. Today, a Saturday, was an exception, as the person she was working for had allegedly asked her yesterday to return the next day.

I cannot help but feel suspicion despite whatever reason she may have had told me besides everything else. I have no reason to. Mioseon has never shown the inclination to betray my trust, although her ways of showing it are rather hazy at best. I take her word for it the same way I preach to her the value of trust, as when she herself takes it upon her own to question me about my relationship with a certain friend that I had met during my long trip to Scotland. Her name was Valentina, and it is with this non-committal that I find my own feet treading boiling water ever since I've arrived here with her. We have had arguments and serious falling-outs over the fact that Mioseon believes that there is, inside me, a hidden agenda, of daisical emotion, towards Valentina. Which is absurd now, for the record. My relationship with Mioseon had tremendously changed since the time I spent wandering about in another foreign land outside of London they call Scotland. My entire being is now strongly devoted to this commitment with Mioseon, and it is when she shoves me back out of spite in an attempt to divert my mind into something else that makes me twirl in that carousel of hopelessness and helplessness that I've always prayed to avoid.

So still, working at that restaurant in Richmond to make her ends and my ends meet gives me not a single second of pleasure. It only bolsters what I have feared all along; that my neophytic form when it comes to love needs more exposure and that, basically, I suck at this ballgame and I'm jealous, maybe for all the wrong reasons -- but I'm jealous nonetheless -- because anything is possible and I believe that there are more things in life that meets the eye. Hence I fight now for the truth, and she thinks that I am using this to threaten her whole life ahead of her without including me in that grand scheme.

Three full hours seemed like forever as I dragged myself to work and traveled back to catch her catching winks. She was tired, as I had anticipated. Her restlessness these past couple of nights are getting stronger. I spoke no word and left her to her slumber while I labour myself in aromatic dinner in less-appetising conditions. My feelings when seeing her make my eyes see red. This unfounded rage demands answers and still is patient enough to sit and wait, let her alibis simmer in the thickness of her skin, while I stalk like a silent shadow honing my senses tenfold, going in for the kill.

I'm scared now, because I feel another heat rising inside me telling me how I wouldn't like the outcome of this.

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