She came in, undressed, gave ... Somehow willfully, perhaps laughing, got out of bed, cute smile, dressed and left. Then she came back. For a long time I said something. I loved her, she loved me, I read aloud to women's magazines. It touches me a little, and at times it seemed strange.It was not that, though desirable, I acted with her somehow shocking ... Maybe not, but it does not matter, it came in, I could be waiting. It was as clear as the ideal, but ... something to me then it is not enough. Maybe I'm far from the ideals? She came. There was suddenly gone, as suddenly as it had appeared. I never understood what happened then. It meant nothing to me. I loved her, she loved me. It was like something unearthly. And was all this to me? I remember a long time waiting for her, I do not know why, but jealous. I've never seen her cry. We have it there was something, but seriously. I've never been fond of her, I do not know why, maybe afraid? Or maybe just do not like and do not like it, I do not really know how to ... It was beautiful, yes, beautiful! But why all the time went. And why do all the time back, as easily as if she laughed, as if on a table to have forgotten something ... I loved her, she loved me. She came to a chair and sat down awkwardly long, looked at me in silence. Then she said a couple of vague phrases. Got dressed and left for the last time ... And never came. I loved her, she loved me ...