I could love him anywhere, in any city, any season, I think to myself. I can easily envision us coming back together, maybe a year or two from now, strolling down the Bund at night, lost in Shanghai’s brilliant array of lights, or taking photos in the ancient water towns, his hand intertwined with mine. Just as I can envision us in LA, riding our bikes along the coast, packing strawberries and croissants into picnic baskets, lounging on the couch at his house. The only thing I can’t envision is no longer wanting him.
