The New Life

by Tom Crewe

He understood this: what it is to burn, and to dare not touch. Except, by following Angelica, by touching the ground, by doing what he had done, he had, like all these men, given way. Or nearly. And ever since, his imagination, for so long so closely kept, was loose, dancing out ahead of him. Some nights, he simply sat, held in the grip of his desire, unable to move for fear or ignorance of what he might do. He did not know where to take his desire. He often wondered about the man he’d seen—or thought he’d seen—exchange a glance with Jack on the platform at London Bridge, boarding the Dover train. Were they together in Paris? Had they jointly planned their escape? Or had Henry simply been privy to one of life’s vivid offerings, that Jack might or might not have had the courage to accept? Jack mentioned no one in his letters, and so Henry did not ask.