"Obsession is the single most wasting disease of the human soul."
—Jim Morrison
——————————————————Renzo became even more determined after I rejected him—eight days, to be precise. I wasn't subtle about wanting him gone; subtlety had never been part of what we had. But I didn't tell him outright to stay away, and with Renzo, silence was practically an invitation.
Even if I had plastered a "Stay Out, Renzo" sign on my door, he would've ignored it. He kept slipping into my space every night, acting like my rejection didn't even register.
Clearly, hearing "no" from a woman was unfamiliar to him.
On the first night, when I half-expected him to obey my command, there he was, knocking at the door with a bottle of whiskey in hand, like I hadn't just told him to leave me alone. He dropped
