This is not the way we expected it to end, a man of some
distinction in a city that never sleeps, holding out his hand to her, to carry
her off to some new career just when she assumed all options had failed, the
drama of the past few years expiring with a grateful sign as she flies out to
that world, leaving behind the residue of her old life, the Mata Hari intrigue she only pretended to be good at,
never able to make what she enjoys most in life to pay off even with the help
of those few scoundrels who envisioned her as an opportunity, for them, not
her, leaving her behind when she became inconvenient, an albatross that keep
them from begetting what they wanted, when what they wanted was never really
hear, this story concluding on a momentary sour note, only to rise up and sound
sweet again once she abandoned the wolves who would devour her otherwise.
I never expected the old story to conclude like this, and I
will miss the old her, even if that old her caused me so much pain, but joy as
well as if there is always pleasure in pain when it comes to her.
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