home - 13th floor elevators

i got to Margaret’s around midday. i rang the bell. nothing. i waited around for maybe ten minutes before getting the bus home.

the e-mail i wrote Her took me about an hour. i was just about to send it and stopped, the cursor hovering over the send button. i went back over it, deleted a paragraph, added three more at the end.

i checked and re-checked my e-mail for a couple of hours - nothing.

i suppose this isn't the end of the world. it's not even the first time i've been on my own. something will always turn up.

it's almost funny to think of Margaret practicing on me, then moving on.