Babbling Point

When I got home last night, I realized that I did write a book about the way she walked, and whispered, and looked. And mostly, it was about the way she walked away.

I still have the book. Don't really know what to do with it. Was supposed to give it to her but was advised by friends not to do so.

I could throw it away. Maybe if there was a way to make money out of it.
To make money out of misery. We could all be millionaires.

Maybe I could publish it. But it wouldn't make any sense to the reader, I suppose. Maybe just to her. Then again, with her short-term memory she would probably have no idea what that book is all about. Bummer...

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