And in the end I was unable to stop my betrayal. He found out, of course. He killed my lover. He almost killed me.Then he killed himself.No. I killed ...im.I know. I have no right to live on. But I do.I could annoy you with repentance and remorse, but I won't. Not because I don't honestly feel it. I do feel remorse, about ten tons of it and they all weigh on my heart.But there is no point, is there?My love is dead. George is gone. So is every dream I ever had. I carelessly and thoughtlessly threw. My deflated ego had a hard time digesting that.I really don’t remember him too much. Probably, he was covered in spots with badly fitting clothes and halitosis. See, even now I am jealous.They were deep in conversation, facing each other on opposite bench seating. She was leaning back with her arms crossed over her breasts; he was leaning forward and sat on the edge of the musty seat. If I knew then what I know of body language, I would have recognised her withdrawal from him, while he was. More

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