My Usual Please

My entry for the Valentine's Day competition. Enjoy.


1. Epigraph

She never told her love,  But let concealment, like a worm i’th’bud, Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?

Shakespeare; Twelfth Night

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