At this late hour, the metro was practically empty. There wasn’t any noise. We settled into a corner seat and I pressed my head against his shoulder. Frank stroked my hand while his other hand twined through strands of my golden hair. A tender moment, sensual, just as I like it. Without even looking at him I could feel his heavy gaze on me. He seemed quiet, doubtful, lost. I was dreading the end of the evening. Should I pre-empt a kiss? But Frank wasn’t so calculated… I was pressed against him, our hands entwined, and he was still withdrawn.
I turned my head towards him. ‘Frank, do you still love me? Even just a little?’
Frank opened his mouth. Yet not a single syllable came out. Not a word. Not a sound. Then, he took a deep breath and began to speak slowly, as though overwhelmed by some
