The splinters of her pre-dawn melancholy had regrouped, soaring up in anger and frustration. No more tears. No. More. Tears. She hadn’t schemed to ...urt and deceive anyone. It would’ve been one thing if Sean couldn’t accept the facts. But he hadn’t even given her a chance to explain. He just waved her off like she was some stranger with whom he shared no history, one who hadn’t earned the right to at least be heard. Did Sean think so little of her? She didn’t have the energy today to beseech. The door bell rang and I answered it. The pizza man was I guess in his late 30's-40's and was decent looking.I was so nervous and I didn't know how he would react or what to expect.I opened the door and took the pizza inside, I came back and started to undo a few of my top buttons and I took the 20$ bill from my bra, leaving my blouse undone so my black bra was kinda vissable. As he counted out my change, I could see he was peaking at my bra, boobs. He left and I felt so so sexy, I was so. “Kara was in the picture at the time, but that was before we had our problems.”“And all of this is in your diary?”“And a whole lot more,” I grinned.“And what will you write about me?”“About our conversations and about the dojo.”“Do you describe your encounters?”“Sometimes.”“In detail?”“Sometimes.”“And if we did?”I shrugged slightly, “I never know beforehand what I’m going to be moved to write. My journal has always been a way of talking to myself, ordering my thoughts, and trying to make sense. I don’t remember how it came up, but I eventually told her that this was my first date....ever. “Really?” she responded. It wasn’t an are-you-serious kind of response. It was more of a legitimately surprised response, which made me feel good. “Yeah. I’ve always been too shy to ask a girl out. Which means I’ve never even had a girlfriend.” I didn’t feel ashamed to tell her that. I felt--even after just a few hours with her--that I could trust her. And she confirmed that. “That’s okay,” she said,.