Was it all what I thought it was when all this first started, some elaborate plot in which she plays Motahari or maybe a mobsters’ mole, a setup, a sting, or what she, is she as innocent as I wish to think, she a victim of circumstance, not a puppet being use, but someone who stumble into the middle of something even she (with her vast experienced) never figured what it would become what it became, and now, caught in the middle of a plot, not of her making, leaving her no other option, but to leave.
Was it what I thought it was – in the middle, when I thought
she used me, and then jettisoned me, when I had no more use, or did she
honestly feel what I thought she felt, something stirring deep inside her hear,
as she did in mine?
Is it all what think it is now, the last chapter of a book neither
of us wanted a role in, we forced to live out our lines we never intended.
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