Jon
I tacked up the photos I had taken earlier and then stood back to admire my masterpiece. Before me was a careful catalog of what I liked to call Naomi’s wall, years in the making. Every movement she’d ever made in the last year was up there. The places she liked to eat. The clubs she frequented. The paths she took day in and day out. When she went to the gym. Where she went to the gym.
Everything.
It turned out that my quiet, submissive Naomi was quite the popular person when it came to places I thought she had given up, places that I had scoured for months after our breakup, only to find her nowhere to be found. She hid from me, kept her distance, and whenever I got too close, I was forced to back off because she threw herself into the wind again.
Every time she did, I would spend
