Highway 5, Washington, D.C.

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January 8, 2019, 7:04 p.m.


"What about the extremes of our nature? We'll move on. After all, they are the ones that cause us to meet all the time, the fact that we cannot live without each other. You can't live without me."

- You know who


January 8, 2019, 8:54 p.m.

I had been on the road for several hours. I was approaching D.C. It was about 9. I was supposed to be at the motel in forty minutes. We drove through the night streets of the capital city, illuminated by lamps.

I didn't believe he would arrive. But apparently, his curiosity was as intense as mine.

His car was there. It was in a moderately crowded motel parking lot on the north bank of the Potomac River. When I entered the reception, I didn't have to introduce myself; the man behind the glass counter handed me a key with the number 11.

My head was full of thoughts. I was sick.

A long corridor stretched in front of me. I arrived right in front of the door of room No. 11. I knocked.

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