Maybe where we started to go wrong was when we told each other so much. In the beginning, everyone sits talking for hours and doesn't realize it until they get kicked politely out of the restaurant. Is it really this late? But we didn't know when to stop that phase, to settle in. We were too excited and too willing to learn everything.

We worked together and we slept together and in the morning we went to work together. It wasn't oppressive. Nobody believes that but it wasn't. And then I was done. I told him all my stories and then I was done. He had my past and I sealed up my future where he could not get it.

Is that how it works, you can love somebody only until they know all about you? I'd like to think we're more unpredictable than that.

Now, I'm left not wanting to share my secrets. Or just a few, just enough to reveal me as interesting. A Girl with a Past who has Done Things. But no further. I told Lowell about my favorite toys growing up and the bats and the hospital and who almost died and who did die. And I told him about Alice and, eventually, I told him all the details of that. I should not have. I am left with the desire to marry someone and live together for years and years and die still not knowing it all, still finding out new surprising things. I know I am being simplistic. I know Lowell really didn't know every secret. Listen, we ended up ruined. I find my answers where I can.

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