The notes were haunting.“I’ve been a lot of lonely places,” Liz sang. “I’ve seen the scorn written in a lot of hateful faces.”I sat and li...tened to the story of a lonely teenager – Liz’s story. She talked about how she wished somebody would give her a chance to prove her worth but she was always on the outside looking in.The last verse was the best, in my humble opinion.“You’ll look around one day, when I’m on top, when I’m Miss Thing; you’ll say I knew her when. But I’m not you, I won’t commit. He was looking at them now—his gaze almost like a touch as it moved slowly down from her face to her breasts, down her waist to linger on her panties for a moment, then just as slowly back up. He leaned back again, as if to take in the whole picture.“Close your eyes.”She did so. Nothing happened for a moment. In the darkness behind her eyes she became aware of sounds and smells—the low hum of the ventilation system, the gurgling pipes, the disinfectant odor of the bathroom, the growing sense. Of course, I also a spent a lot of time watching porn videos and yes, why not say it, pleasing myself.Last week I got a call from Isabel. After the usual greetings, she told me that after our last phone call she had somehow managed to sneak to the beach house her parents own in Cariló and had spent the whole lockdown there.She also told me that she had returned to her apartment only two days ago, and that she was hoping I'd accept an invitation to dine out on Saturday. Now, to the actual. He began keeping a little bookshelf of tales and reference that interested him. But he never married. His passion had been given, and he never saw the need to take a wife. Sometimes he would find himself staring at the sea, which was a maiden in its own way to lonely sailors; the mere sight of it was a balm to his lonely soul.The day dawned when he was old, and he accepted it. His joints began to creak on his journeys down the sand beach to the shore; he had stopped diving from the cliffs.
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