This is becoming less of a fairytale.

And more of a chore.

You're losing interest.

I can see it.

9/11/01.

That is all.

It's a cruel thing, really.

To have to choose.

Who am I kidding.

This is all just a game for you, isn't it?

Going through the motions.

Maybe we're all just pretenders.

I miss you so much it hurts.

And you'll almost certainly say, "I miss you too, babe."

But what is this leading up to?