Thursday, November 1, 2012


He had first admired her candor and wit. Then, as their relationship transcended amity and grew passionate, his admiration approached veneration. She was erudite, dauntless in her pursuit of linguistic excellence and purity. Her vocabulary seemed boundless, her punctuation was impeccable. (And, he found her inordinately pulchritudinous.) His devotion was complete, and until that morning, he had perceived no reservations or rancor on her part.

He picked up the “Dear John” note — the abnegation of their love, if you will — she had left upon his pillow. He reread it, nonplussed, and began to reconsider her virtues.

“Eschew obfuscation,” it said.

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