Synopsis

When Paulo Coelho said loneliness, among shelter, water and food, is the worst kind of torture, I knew he was wrong-- it's love, the verb, and the gerund that it can be turned into.

Loving someone who's unsure to have one's feeling being reciprocated is too torturing and might as well be the worst among all kinds of pain.

I can't just always give love along with uncertainties having less than zero probability of receiving it back.

This is a story of a 25 year old woman who make use of her low-key linguistic skill into a publishing industry and have herself financially supported. And her cats, of course.

Clay is the name, and that's me.