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Once again, I sat, stupid with boredom, plotting how I would get my ex Patrick to leave the house, and leave me alone. I ignored him, I told him I'd had another in my heart, I so far as threatened to expose all of his lies and deception to his current girlfriend, who, in youth and blind love thought he was but of course perfect. Nothing seemed to work, he just insisted that he would leave her none worse the wear, and it would give him more opportunity to pursue me openly. I insisted I had no interest in him anymore, and regardless of what his empty words promised me, I could never love him again. So, in losing my last bit of patience, I stood, went to the door and told him if he didn't Id have no choice but to call the police and have him (not so kindly) removed. No sooner did I pull the door open in exasperation; there you were, standing almost stoically before me. I couldn't move. It felt as though your mere gaze had paralyzed me, and indeed until you moved to walk past me I was. I realized immediately in my foolish hesitation I not only hadn't greeted you properly, but I never broke my stare as you scanned the picture before you in obvious disapproval. I followed behind your step quickly, my eyes on to the floor, as you practically sauntered into my living room. There sat Patrick, looking up at you stupified, but quickly jumping to his feet to shake your hand when I refused to speak at his introduction request. You turned then, grinning, to ask me just whom he was and what was he doing in my house with me alone without your approval. Stunned and confused at your words, Patrick demanded an explanation and for you to identify yourself. You half laughed, and half sighed at his attempt at a show of ...

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