I can’t explain it, but talking to him—about anything—just felt good. The way singing feels good. Or laughing. Or getting a massage. I’ve never been addicted to anything, but I suspect it might feel a little bit like this: You know you shouldn’t but you just want to so bad. That was conversation with Duncan: illicit, indefensible, and wrong, wrong, wrong—but also blissfully, hopelessly impossible to resist.
