"Perhaps I may reply, if you are lucky"

She has been gone for two weeks now.

I knew it would happen. In the few times we talked, she told me this much. "My life hangs on this," she said, more or less. "If I don't get this, I don't know what to do. Oh, please, can't they just tell me I'm not getting it?"

"What if you do?" I told her. "That'd be one hell of a new chance."

"Yeah," she said. "That'd be very, very fun. And then I'd invite you out and we'd hang out."

"That's impossible. Well, more or less impossible."

And then it happens. Funny thing is, I didn't really realize that it's happening until it did. We were even talking a few days ago, and then I got busy with a few things, and then it was over. I saw some signs. I knew I had to talk sense into her again, pretty much what I've been doing those past few weeks, but I knew I should let her be for a while. It happened before. She should be back.

She hasn't been back.

It's been two weeks. I remember sending a bunch of emails, not knowing it's going nowhere - I'm that slow - and then I stopped sending emails, and I find it a bit difficult, since there are so many stories I want to tell, stories that only she would get. I guess that's what I missed the most about her. She gets it.

So, yes, I should let her be for a while. And she should be back. But one of the things I hate the most is watching something or someone fade away. I can cut ties, but I can't let something fade away. Either it's forever or it's gone now. I'm a bit black-and-white that way. And then, there's a breaking point. You can only wait for so long.

Today, I tossed an email. I told her that, yes, I should let her be, but there's just this one story that I had to tell her. And to boot, I sent it to a different email address, since she has six and they all confuse me.

I got an automatic reply.

"Reach me at my other email address. Perhaps I may reply, if you are lucky."

I gave up.

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