Trafika Europe 12 - French Bon-Bons

Who You Think I Am

him to be my friend on Facebook just to have news of Joe— Joel. I was going out with Joel, with Joe, at the time. In those days Joe had hardly any friends on social networks, he only accepted people he knew, except me— he thought lovers shouldn’t be friends. But Chris (and it was Joe who told me this), well, Chris had hundreds of friends, he did a lot of Facebooking, his profile name was KissChris, he had this way of collecting likes so easily it impressed Joe. Are you on Facebook, Marc? You do understand what I’m talking about? You don’t need me to translate? Anyone who’s been around Joe for a while might think it was weird for him to be shy like that because in other ways he had no boundaries, I mean really none— hardly even the one that would stop you killing someone outright if you got the urge, and even then. . .there are so many ways of killing someone. He could destroy you in a flash, with one word, with his silence. You must know that women’s main fear is abandonment? Yes, you have stuff like that in your books. Well, Joe was like that— I guess you could say “perverse”: he could abandon you ten times a day. He knew where the crack in your armor was— in a way, perverts know women best of all— and he would wedge the tip of his absence in there and just drain your vital energy, your thirst for happiness. You could reach out your hand to him, he’d squeeze it then drop it, on a whim, for no apparent reason, just because you were relying on

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