[Procute]queen of Disaster

The first week was the most difficult. I was drowned in pillows and quilts all night, as if there was a pea hidden under my body. I tossed and turned, waking up from time to time to look at my phone and check the latest text messages. I logged into my email more times in a week than in a year. I suddenly woke up at two or three in the morning, thinking he had gone home. The hazy sky outside the window made me cry quietly in front of the window. Almost another week passed, and I gradually got used to the daily routine of losing all news from Prosciut. Before going to bed, I would drink the expensive wine he had hidden in my house, and I would stumble to bed after drinking. When I woke up in the morning, I would smell like Don Juan who was out wandering. Intention: Waiting for love