“No, listen.” His voice was dreamy and his eyes were a melted pool of feeling. “I went away. I went to Paris, to visit Yvonne. Her husband just died. But I watched all the lovers in the street, and no matter how familiar she was to me, she still wasn’t you. I went to Israel, where I prayed at the Wall for God to alleviate this love from me. I went to Greece, to see how things that were older than me could survive. I went to India—I went to an ashram, and I learned how to sit with my thoughts, but then I realized that my thoughts were never the problem. You were.”
