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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
excuses given by a geek's one true love until it dawned onto him

Submitted: May 03, 2017

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Submitted: May 03, 2017



You always said the same thing over and over again.

Everyday we'd meet at the same secret location, for our relationship couldn't be made known. You'd always be there waiting for me anyway, so to make sure that it was truly me, we had our own magical phrase "chérie" that I had to spell out clearly and correctly ‘cos many who somehow knew of this word may forget about the accent aigu, that was the extent of our privacy.

We met one day, as I found you abandoned in the alleyway on the way back home from work. You lay there in your dark overalls, scratches everywhere, no more breath left to cry for help, but still you mustered the last of your energy to stay awake. That's how we met, and at that moment when I laid eyes on your lovely appearance, I knew you were the one. You could call it, love at first sight.

Lately, you seemed to be back in those traumatic days of your abandonment from your previous lover. Angsty and depressed from how he just threw you in a dark and cold alley for you to fend for yourself, not even caring to put you out somewhere else. He even tried to sell you to be used by others who would soon abandon you. But you were lovely and served me willingly and I guess our respect and love was mutual. But lately you've been showing me black faces, and sometimes blue with suffocation, the past held tight on you and stifled your movements.

Today I finally decided that maybe it was time to introduce you to my family. Out of respect, I asked whether you wanted to come along home with me to meet my parents. I asked you many other things but you seemed to process it longer than usual, finding excuses with random prompts then stopping midtrack to ask me whether I was really OK, or whether it was better to cancel the meeting altogether. Suddenly, you just went haywire, your expression turned from blue to black like you had experienced this before. And you stopped responding to me altogether.

But still I dragged you back home.

And when the door opened

"WHY DID YOU BRING SUCH A FILTHY THING BACK?! " my unreasonable father hollered before I could even say anything.

I was aghast, how dare he refer to her as a "thing", the audacity to insult the one who I have confided in since the first time we met, what outrageous behaviour to condemn her.


And that's when I realised where the scratches came from, and why she took so long to process my words. She was already considered old for her age, ugly and useless.

And so I brought her back to the rubbish dump, where I first found her.



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