I’d wanted him for so long, but despite my efforts, we got closer, and that was torture too, because then I knew when he was seeing people. I could stand next to him and smell the scent of his apple shampoo, and be close enough to touch, but never allow myself, and know that someone else had that freedom. It was like the Greek myth of King Phineus who could never eat the banquet laid before him every day. Every time he met someone I would torture myself with the idea that this would be the one, and then sag with relief when it wasn’t.
