painfully

oh. i did want him to win so badly. i hope you know that. i hope you do. it was the first time i watched a match wanting someone to win. and so badly. no, really. i watch sports to watch people play, and at the end of a match i think, well! weren't they splendid? and this time i thought, can he win? can he? and i know i thought he couldn't but can he? please? and why did i say "i don't think he will?" why did i say that? in such poor taste and no wonder he hates me hates me hates me. but of course none of that is important because it is over and done with and now i am retiring from the ranks, as i promised myself i would.
i watched, thinking of you. how could i not? (during the rain break they spoke of Fabrice)
i watched and wondered how you were watching. and where. was it curled up in a great armchair? are there armchairs where you are? i wondered if you were working, if you ever worked while you watched or if that was sacrilege and how could you possibly. and i wondered what you were eating, and if you were, and what you were drinking, and if you were, and if you were thinking about what i'd said because it was in such poor taste and how *dare* she think he might not win? and whether you said things out loud while you were watching, like "Come on" and "Go" and "You can do it"; whether you do.


Oh dear. It is done, dear; all done. I will not bother you again.
God bless.