Jun
1
2009
No good reason.
Just as my memoirs of mistakes were about to capsize my heart for the day, Paul walks in wearing a robe and holding a towel. Everything in me wants to fall on my knees and let the tears go. I keep my composure. He doesn’t say hello, just cuts to the chase. “Come here.”
For the next 10 minutes, we stand at his bedroom window and stare at the trees. He’s captivated with a certain kind of leaf, that when inspired by the wind, resembles the crackling of a fire ember.
