His bag on the floor, open, was the first thing I saw when I woke up alone in my bed the next morning. Cristian didn’t pack his things and left me. He was still there, somewhere, as daylight struck through the slits in the shutters.
And I was still pinching.
Cristian was nothing like Marcus. He was nothing like any man I knew. He was patient and attentive, and he listened. Cristian was the most attentive listener. I never got the impression he was pitying me. He did his best to let me know how brave and smart I was. He saw in me what I myself had not seen, and now that I had tasted his good opinion, I wanted more. More and more. Cristian would take down the moon and the stars if I let him do that. Could I let him do that?
I lowered my face into the pillow he was sleeping on and tried to
