“you’reotalk,”draohuffed.

heinstantlytoldhismindtoshutup,beforethewaveofself-loathingouldhokehim.heknewhewasn’tworthyofpotter.holy,hewasn’tworthyofhisfianée,either.ex-fianée,heorretedhimself.maybethiswasthewayitshouldbe,forhimtobealonefortherestofhislife.andmaybethatprospetwouldn’thaveseemedsoterrifyingandgut-wrenhingiftherehadn’tbeenthisagonisingpain,thisgapingholeinhishest,exposinghisheart,whihwassreamingandyearningforpotter.

heturnedonhisside,hugginghiskneeslosetohistorso.why,whydidithavetobelikethis?whywouldn’ttheuniversestopthim?heknewhedidn’tdeservehappiness.butdidhereallydeservetosufferlikethis?

weatoffhisforeheadwiththebakofhishand.heouldstillfeelpotter’stouhonhisskin.only,unlikeinhisdream,itdidn’tferousinganymore.itfeltlikesomeinvisibleforewasrashingdownonhim,stiflinghim.

“shutup,bise.andyou,”draopointedawarningfingeratpansy,“youpromisedtokeepyourmouthshut.somuhforthat.”

friday,23may2003

“i’mnotpouting.”

“so?”

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“he’sstillpouting.”

“obviously,i’mfarmoredelightfulthanyou,”sheretorted.herexpressionturnedmorethoughtfsshetappedherfingersagainstherthighs.“look,it’sbeentwomonths.”

“sazar,ihatewhenyou’reinabadmood,”pansysaid,rollinghereyes.“youalwaysdrageveryoneelsedownwithyou.”

“dra

“areyoustillpouting?”

itwasn’tthefirsttimehehaddreamedaboutpotter.butneverhaditfeltsoreal.neverhaditbeenthisdevastatingtowakeup,torealiseithadonlybeenadream.hisokseemedtoagree.apparently,therewouldbenoneedtotakeareofit.