She pops the back door of the Camry open. I want to chase her. To steal another kiss, while the getting’s good. Perhaps even tell her my sole reason for taunting her in Italy was because she was alluring, too damn fuckable, and I hated her for it. But what’s the point? Winnifred is too engrossed in her love for her dead husband. Even if she wasn’t, I’ve only ever wanted one woman. Wanting another one seems foreign; unlike riding a bike, it is not a skill you can neglect and pick right back up. “Oh, and by the way.”
