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Gone-Girl-by-Gillian-Flynn

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always has his favorite toothpaste, that I know his collar size off the top of my<br />

head, that I am an unconditionally loving woman whose greatest happiness is<br />

making my man happy.<br />

I was that way, for a while, with Nick. But it was unsustainable. I’m not<br />

selfless enough. Only child, as Nick points out regularly.<br />

But I try. I keep on keeping on, and Nick runs around town like a kid<br />

again. He’s happy to be back in his rightful prom-king place – he dropped<br />

about ten pounds, he got a new haircut, he bought new jeans, he looks freakin’<br />

great. But I only know that from the glimpses of him coming home or going<br />

back out, always in a pretend hurry. You wouldn’t like it, his standard response<br />

any time I ask to come with him, wherever it is he goes. Just like he jettisoned<br />

his parents when they were of no use to him, he’s dropping me because I<br />

don’t fit in his new life. He’d have to work to make me comfortable here, and<br />

he doesn’t want to do that. He wants to enjoy himself.<br />

Stop it, stop it. I must look on the bright side. Literally. I must take my<br />

husband out of my dark shadowy thoughts and shine some cheerful golden<br />

light on him. I must do better at adoring him like I used to. Nick responds to<br />

adoration. I just wish it felt more equal. My brain is so busy with Nick<br />

thoughts, it’s a swarm inside my head: Nicknicknicknicknick! And when I<br />

picture his mind, I hear my name as a shy crystal ping that occurs once,<br />

maybe twice, a day and quickly subsides. I just wish he thought about me as<br />

much as I do him.<br />

Is that wrong? I don’t even know anymore.

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