You are warm and wonderful, soft and softer-spoken still, murmuring one or two words at a time in my ear with tones that glowed all night. ‘I like your kisses’ you whisper when I am turned away. ‘I could kiss you all night,’ breathed softly through my hair, and I am swooning. Your hand on me gently, so quiet I can scarcely feel the pressure, only the heat through the fabric, and your breath, faster and faster.

I don’t believe it. I am so very sad to know I can’t.

Love is love is love, it doesn’t have to last forever. Love is love is love, it doesn’t have to last.

This is the fifth kiss in a year, and the four before it have meant nothing to any of the boys who have come to me, or who have however so briefly let themselves be found. I am sad and faithless and ready for disappointment.

I have my speech prepared for when you don’t call, trying to explain to you my disappointment without establishing feeling, trying to explain to myself there’s nothing to find so disappointing.

I am hoping
I am hoping
I am hoping.

He called....