It has been three weeks since things between Isabella and me have fallen apart. I have come, in my own weird way, to accept that it has come to a spectacular end. I have on the occasion, and might I say too many, but I have had the desire to phone her. I find myself with my phone in hand near sending her a message quite often. But between Galland and Cayley, I have managed to come to a point where I can say that I am moving on, slowly but at a certain pace.
What I have also done is not been out on a mission with the squad either. I pose a bigger risk at getting myself, and even far worse, one of my men killed with my mind that just lacked being there.
