How can she explain that remaining invisible was her sole strength when he left? That at least there was something he couldn't take with him?*He prove...s her right. A scorching thread's exhibitionist flourish goes without a reply. Once a springboard for impetuous morning self-quickies spotlit by a leering sun, the mattress edge instead hosts a flurry of pencil scribblings into the bedside notebook, where passion's muses spin prose that siphons away the inconvenient rage of the unrequited. By now,. The day did not go well. He was miserable and he knew he was making her miserable. He was not a talkative person. Perhaps if he could have shared his feelings, she would have understood, but he couldn’t. And it made him even more miserable to see the hurt he was putting her through. That night she stayed in the bathroom for a long time and he had the sense she might have been crying. He didn’t know how to fix things but as she came out of the bathroom he caught a glimpse of her short nightgown. I also explained my plan, crappy as it was, for us to possibly be together after Em graduated from college. She seemed to take it all in stride, though I did note that certain portions of my tale caused her to gulp her wine a little more quickly. I suspected she was a bit tipsy now, which probably was a good thing. Maybe it would help her sleep. “And that pretty much brings us up to today,” I said, concluding my confession. “I have to admit,” Kate began, slurring her words just a bit, “that if. They had a history but that didn't matter. What mattered was the sense of urgency with which his body met hers, the longing gasps of his breath on her neck. Her eyes opened lazily, hoping that no-one else on the dance floor would see the intimate embrace she shared. This wasn't the man she arrived with. It was not the man she would leave with. This was a phantom of the past suddenly made flesh by circumstance; they both had so much to lose but for that brief spell, barely a lapse in the beat of.