seven weeks ago

That‘s all I could say. I wasn‘t sure he understood what I meant. Then he came toward me

and threw his arms around me. For a moment, the world and all its people vanished, and there

was just Daniel and me in our home by the sea.

He was saying something, but my eyes misted over, and I couldn‘t understand what he was

saying. All I was aware of was the stubble on his chin as his face pressed against mine. And

then, the moment ended. I went to work, and Daniel left a few hours later with his

girlfriend.

That was seven weeks ago, and I think about him when I walk along the beach on weekends.

Thousands of miles away, somewhere out past the ocean waves breaking on the deserted shore,

he might be scurrying across Boulevard Saint Germain, strolling through a musty hallway of

the Louvre, bending an elbow in a Left Bank café.

What I had said to Daniel was clumsy and trite. It was nothing. And yet, it was everything.