I was going to walk him outside the hotel lobby and then stand and watch him go. Any moment now we were going to say goodbye. Suddenly part of my life was going to be taken away from me now and would never be given back.

[...]by not planning to keep things alive, we were avoiding the prospect that they might ever die.

In a few days he'd be gone. If only he'd be back exactly a year from now.

Would I be able to live without his hand on my tummy or around my hips? Without kissing and licking a wound on his hip that would take weeks to heal, but away from me now? Whom else would I ever be able to call by my name?There would be others, of course, and others after others, but calling them by my name in a moment of passion would feel like a derived thrill, an affectation.

I want Billowy too. And the espadrilles. And the sunglasses. And you.