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She could not think of anything better to do in this boredom. One not satisfied looks elsewhere. She had gone through this once, and she knows how it ends. Denying that there is a problem never helped anyone. Then again, talking about any problem with him never did either.

All she could see was the blur of emotions that run in her mind. Love! Fuck the fucker who came up with that, and all the blah blah that it entails! She has had enough of it.

Her friends as her, “you think he can get it up?” Well she knows he can get it up. Just has no clue what he does with it afterwards.

Rapists seemed more interesting to analyse than a gay man who pretends to be otherwise. What the fuck! Yea, well rephrase “where’s the fuck?”

Flowers he sends in abundance. She loves flowers. They always made her happy. Definitely happier than sex. “What the hell am I doing?” wonders. Get it out of the system before it kills her, her brain cells having signalled too many a time have gone numb.

Well what the fuck. She dials the Other’s number.

Well the question is who’s the fuck!

He picks after one ring.

“What say you? Meet me tonight, I am bored!”