I did it again?

Oops. Russian never was my forte. I'd feel foolish if I wasn't so beside myself at last night's utter disaster. To know you were there while I was fending off the perverted bird makes me sad beyond belief. I'd ask for a do-over at the brothel if I didn't think there may be repercussions from the incident last night. I've never been so conflicted about a person Nikita - I have to see you. I can't even begin to write all of the things I am feeling for you, us. I'm certain that when I look into your eyes and hold you close, I will know more than I can ever discern from a thousand of your words. And I apparently have a paragraph problem. But I'm comfortable with it. It suits me. It's how I think. One long stream of thoughts I have to choose from, and I'm proud it's coherent at all. I'm testy. I must see you, hold you, smell you. There's a park by the dam, and it's far away enough from the center of town that we will not be noticed. I'll be there an hour before sunset. I'll have a picnic basket with your favorite cheeses and wine. (and of course a loaded handgun too) There. Simple. If you don't make it tonight, I'll be there tomorrow too. And the next day. Until then,

S