I'm going to live in Paris in the 7th arrondissement, go to farmer’s markets twice a week, buy fresh flowers, walk along the Seine, sun bathe in the Luxembourg Gardens, and read Palahniuk with a cup of cafe au lait and a plate of macarons.
Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.