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I never foresaw our worlds colliding. How the past and present would crash together and leave us with nothing but a blinding kaleidoscope of pain.
Even his damn hands are pretty, nails clean and trimmed, a decidedly undervalued trait among men in my opinion.
“It’s those 11:11 sighs, stolen feelings hard to describe. Where I sink into this dream of mine.”
“Typically…” He hesitates, flicking his eyes to mine. “After the research period… I would insert myself into their lives somehow and try to recover whatever it is I was hired for.”
Better not be....
He’s a lover of the tragedies and I’m the greatest tragedy of all.
