This Isn't A Letter, It's A Gift.

I Love Him, She Thought. I'm Just Not In Love With Him And Also I Don't Love Him. I've Tried, I've Strained To Love Him But I Can't. I Am Building A Life With A Man I Don't Love, And I Don't Know What To Do About It.

He's Laughing Me Into A Stupor, She Thought. I Could Heckle, I Suppose, I Could Throw A Bread Roll At Him, But He's Eaten Them All. She Glanced At The Other Diners, All Of Them Going Into Their Act, And Thought Is This What It All Boils Down To? Romantic Love, Is This All It Is, A Talent Show? Eat A Meal, Go To Bed, Fall In Love With Me And I Promise You Years And Years Of Top Notch Material Like This?

I Think Probably I'm Quite Sentimental; I Like Big Emotional Stories, I Like Being Moved By Things, But I Think I'm Very Embarrassed By Sentiment. I'm Very Embarrassed By Corniness.

The City Had Defeated Her, Just Like They Said It Would. Like Some Overcrowded Party, No One Had Noticed Her Arrival, And Would Notice If She Left.

Who Do You Think You Are, Jane Eyre? Grow Up. Be Sensible. Don't Get Carried Away.