“Do you understand what it’s like knowing that when I leave here, another man takes my place? Or having to wait for him to leave to take his?” I don’t, but I can imagine, and it hurts. “He sleeps in your bed. He is the first person who sees you when you wake and before you sleep. He—” “But he is not the one I dream about,” I insist. “He is not the first on my mind when I wake. And it’s not he who owns my heart.”
