I wonder how I missed this when I was so sure it was over, only now you have it all figured out, and I feel like a minor detail, someone to fit into your best-laid plans, and this makes me both happy and sad. They say sociopaths can’t feel, but the knot in the pit of my stomach is proof that they are wrong. You tell me you want us to work together, in your line of business. You think I’d be great at it, great at tracking people, but I’m not great. The most glaring example is the fact that I’ve yet to find Amy. I don’t tell you this because I’ve made a promise. Instead, I tell you I want nothing more. This is true, minus the knot, the one that’s twisting, threatening me—threatening everything. It doesn’t make any sense, but then I guess love rarely does. I’m supposed to be happy, and I am.
