Dead Letter

There was a time, sitting with you at the work table in your apartment, when I felt like I'd been hit on the head with a brick. And I mean this as a wonderful thing: I was jolted into the present. That's when I realized I might be in trouble because I couldn't see you the way I see most men.

You see, I had begun to think of dating as killing time. But I realized, when I was hit on the head with that brick, that I'd been split open. How easy it would have been simply to kill time with you and to breathe a sigh of relief as your plane took off, away from this city, this country, for good. It could have been that way, if you were a different person. It could have been that way, if it weren't for the brick.