UNCERTAIN LINES
LORENZO’S POV
Leaving Mathilda in the mornings is becoming harder than I ever thought it would be. What started as something simple, routine, almost convenient has slowly turned into the one part of my day I dread the most. I linger longer than necessary. I watch her a second too long, I find myself adjusting the sheets around her as if that alone can shield her from the world outside those doors.
I don’t know what this thing I feel for her is yet but I’m not naïve enough to call it love, and I’m not foolish enough to dismiss it as mere desire. I have known desire; it burns hot and dies quickly but this feels different. It follows me into meetings, it creeps into my thoughts at the worst possible moments.
What I do know is that I want to own her, I want to possess her,
