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I love the night like this, sober and tranquil. All on my ears are the slightly quivering breath and mild heartbeat from my own body. I lay myslef calmly on the table, looking staight out of window at the dim yellow moon, which is curved like a boat in the sky. Seeing no one in the room, the soft moonlight sneaks through the glasses, playful like a newborn deer, enjoying the hide and seek with the shadow of branches. Not far from me sleep two books. The paperback snuggles happily on the chest of the thick hardback, with eyes slightly closed with satisfactory, sweet smile on the coner of her mouth, and glory of happiness and pleasure flying on her face. Lovely. I say to myself. Then without warning, mawkish sentiment looms, as if a gust of wind blows from nowhere, in which the dust swirls up, misting my heart, which brings forth dizzily ill-feeling. After all, the happiness is all others’. As to me, although I could virtually "touch" the texture of happiness almost everyday, I never managed to grasp it. Ever. And I am also aware, fairly well, that it will never happen.The room is vacuum. He was out. Is he dating one of his lovely sweet-hearts? Whenever this thought occurs to me, my heart would feel acid, just like the taste of lemon juice, which then drops on the raw wounds, and causes slight pains. Suddenly, his face emerges from all the darkness. Oh! He is so handsome! The face is apparently carved from marble, which resembles all the statues in the museum, and the distinct silhouette of which expresses fortitude and masculinity. He has the eyes of shining stars in the night, which are so affectionate and alluring, that everytime my sight happens to touch his, which is always full of affection, I would feel like as if my body is liquifying. Oh, God! I think I should never ever dare to look into his eyes, Moreover, he is always so energic, yet so graceful. Yes, I should have mentioned his sense of humour, which I think charms me the most. He has the gift to put all the words together, although each of which appears so boring and meaningless by itself, in an incredible arrangement, which then seem to possess magic of happiness, so as to make you laugh from the bottom of your heart. He is always so eloquent, so expressive, that I even feel like that somehow a lovely bird can fly out of his mouth. Thinking of those, I smirks, as if he were just before my very eyes, only by himself, staying besides me, with his fingers gently stroking on my body. Yet, the room is still empty—-he is not back.He took a phone call before dinner, which I am quite sure was from a pretty girl. He smiled when picking up the phone, with the last sunshine of the day on his face, florid as the fresh rose. I am almost certain that he likes that girl. Then he spoke with charming voice, as it always be, and played jests with her. Finally, he hung up, which seemed so long to me, as if centuries. Then he started whistling in a merry mood—-the song is one of my favorite, but yet every tune seemed slammed on my heart, —-and dressing himself in shining clothes—-I wish I could tell him that this jacket is too tatty to match his shining smile. Afterwards, he tidied his hair in front of the mirror, took a good look at himself, and then acted up a naughty face—-if in other occasion, i would laugh so happily at that face. At last, he seemed satisfied with his appearance, and came to my side and gave me a few pats, as if saying goodbye to me. Then he left. I had been laying there silently, dumbly observing his pleasure. My heart was broken. Without a feeling, tears were all over my face.Just like this he was out of door, cheerfully dating his sweetie, and leaving me alone in this empty room, who has always been expecting his back home earlier. The day is getting dark. The hour hand has moved along the edge almost a circle, from the down right corner the position I first saw it at. And the phone on the table has rung three times. Yet he is not back.I once again give a disappointing look at the door. No sound. Nor any sign he is coming back. Maybe, maybe he would not be home tonight…The girl he is dating with, I think I should know well. Their first meet no the net was about one month ago. It was then I just moved into his home. Actually I am quite confident of myself, both the appearance and figure. I guess he has the same feeling. And I know he liked me at the first sight, although, it was never that kind of "like". But for me, I love him at the first sight. I never get it why I should have had that kind of feeling—-the moment when I saw him, I felt like my heart had not belonged to myself any more. The next moment, he so cheerfully carried me in his arms to his home, and softly and carefully placed me on the table. It was then the first time I saw his loving and tender eyes. What an indescibable feeling it was! It seemed as if my soul was pushed out of my body, and then I was flying with joy, and filling the whole space of the room.Then he started to pet me. I so love the touch of his fingers, so gently, yet slightly quivering with excitement, as if through his tender skin, I could sense his fire-like passion in his jumping heart.Sadly, all his passion, all his devotion, seemed just existing for a rather flash on me, just in a blink. Soon afterwards, his attention was on somewhere else, and my existence was totally ignored, just like the teacup on the table.Soon, he met that girl. First they chatted on Net, days and nights. What they were talking about are all in my mind. Please dont take me wrong, I am not that kind of woman who is keen to pry other’s affairs. It is just whenever they are chatting, he needs me around. Feeling I could be of any use, I feel a little consolement. Nevertheless, maybe he never knows, how hard it is for me to be forced standing as a fool in the middle of them hearing all their sweet talks. I wish I could forget all of them in a second, but the harder I push myself to throw all those words which make me so distracted and so ill way behind my head, the heavier one word after another hit my heart. Sometimes I even fancy, that all this lovely words were just for me. His honey tongue was licking my ear and breathed those flirting words into my heart. Alas! It never happens, I know, never, ever happens….That girl is a fairly nice girl, I have to admit it. Her words is so considerate, so compassionate, and so understanding. Yes, she might be in little temper now and then, but this only makes her more adorable. Sometimes I could be so vicious to guess that maybe this girl is but good in personality, maybe she has a normal look, so that could only chat with people on Net. But one day, they were finally on camera. On the screen appeared a girl of comely face. Round and fruity cheek, thin and long eyebrows, vivid eyes with the reflection of water, delicate nose, and small and soft lips. My woman-ego completely collapsed. I supposed, if I were him, I would as well have fallen in love with her. I gave a glance at him. From his eyes, I seemed to perceive something, radiating outwards like electromagnetic wave does. My heart was hammered heavily, as my sensitive instinct told me, at the first time when i was him, there had been the same thing in my eyes as now in his…The moon still hangs low in the sky, casting dim yellow light. The curtain of that window is not dropped, so that the moonlight walks through the window and splashes itself all over the desk in front of the wondow. Before the computer screen, there lays a despaired keyboard, painfully lost in thought…————————————————————