Margin

He stared into nothing. To others, he was just staring out at the street. To him, it was total horror. He was alone and getting used to it now. He was even beginning to feel it preferable to the company of others.
He opened an old notebook; nervously, not knowing exactly what he would find.
‘To turn your back takes courage. Needing a shoulder to lean on betrays a fundamental, intrinsic weakness on the part of the individual.’
The girl at the bar looked over at him. She thought he looked really handsome and cultured, reading from the notebook.
‘Women are unstoppable wrecking machines’. The notebook read.
He took out a pencil. Made a note in the margin.
‘Doubt is king,’ he wrote.

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