Deliver Us from Eve-L

Who marries a man named Ephraim? What would you call him for short. Or in bed. Effie? Fram?

Eels as a food source. There's something decidedly phallic about that. There are only two reasons that a man invites you to see his eels. I have since ruled out romantic entanglement from the list. Pity.

Leaf Blower.

I haven't gone swimming since the encounter with Farkas. Seems I'll have to suss out the reason for that one of these days. But my couch is far too busy to spend some time on it myself.

I've dealt with more anger issues than I have that of remorse or sadness. No one ever taught me how to deal with this magnitude of problems. I'm beginning to wonder if I can help anyone. There is a picture in my desk drawer of a man I can give no solace to. There is a crack in my window from a man I can not comfort. I no longer have the luxury of being anyone's friend, because then I am no longer objective. Anyone could be my next patient. Or should be my next patient.

Three days of leave. At least I spent one wisely. Or rather, one evening. At least he made me forget about the execution.

Ice cream with Doyle. I have to remember to pencil that in.

Four cigarettes from JZ. One from MS.

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