Nash
It had been days since I had last seen Daphne, almost a week. I shouldn’t be counting the hours, but I felt like an addict who was desperately jonesing for his next fix. Everywhere I went, I was subconsciously looking for her, listening for her. That tall brunette at the supermarket, the silver sedan at the intersection, a stranger talking on her phone in like at the Burger Joint. She was everywhere, and she was nowhere.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to get hung up over some girl I hardly knew. I wasn’t supposed to get attached, or get involved. I certainly wasn’t supposed to bed the girl, but if I had to, then it was supposed to be strictly a physical release, hit it and quit it. It wasn’t supposed to linger in my blood, a constant insatiable ache.
I was to
