I Showed Him My Notebook... The Underside of My Soul Released In Scribbles on Pages... It's Hidden By Useless Facts That I Compile at the Office Where I Work, Where There Is No Time For Feeling Anything... (The Innocence Mission)

Most of the people with whom I ride the train will not notice I've gone, at least not for several weeks, and then it will only be a vague feeling that something is amiss. Where is that girl who always sat in the third row window seat? Some may wonder. But it will trouble him, her, or them for the briefest of moments before the pull to sleep proves too strong. I know because I never wondered anything on the train for long. I simply gave way to the rocking.

I forgot my building access badge this morning, so I had to wait until someone else arrived in the lobby to let me up to my floor. Not exactly Irony, but it's cousin, odd occurrence . In an hour, I have an exit interview with human resources in the building next door. What will I say? I loved my boss; she's a phenomenal lady. Above reproach when it comes to work ethic and character. But I was dying here. My little bohemian spirit can't shake the feeling it was meant for bigger and better things. And I hated my commute. Thank you. The end.

I've had a hard time lately not writing Mr. Renaissance's real name. I've had to check myself, as I nearly typed it several times last weekend when recounting our time together. I wonder what this shift in instinct means. That he's more real to me now, less an idea of someone unattainable, and more and more the man I actually love?