I love you? What? The dark-haired girl, the one who I have assumed has been trying to denounce me to the Thought Police slipped me a note that said I love you. I would have tried to say something, but I was caught incredibly off-guard. Luckily Parsons, the great fool, came in rambling some utter nonsense about Hate Week preparations, or I just might have fainted.
Why me? I mean, I am a weak, relatively ancient man with little to no status. What could she possibly want? She can't honestly love me--she barely knows me!
But it doesn't matter. The thought of somebody to love makes me want to get up in the morning and be alive!
When we met in the canteen, we decided to meet in Victory Square when the crowds could hide us from the telescreens. And when we exchanged a few sentences amidst the people, she gave me directions to a secret rendezvous point.
I don't know what this is about, but honestly: I don't want it to end. I have barely spent three minutes with her and already, she's changed me.
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