Ryan finished reading the letter and stayed silent for the entire night.
Alone in his studio, he smoked cigarette after cigarette, turning the short letter over and over, reading it again and again.
He had never imagined anyone could be that foolish, foolish enough to treasure a single act of kindness for nine years.
And he had never imagined he could be even more foolish, refusing to spare even a minute to listen to her.
He remembered the blind date, the way Cynthia had sounded excited yet stumbling, as if she had rehearsed her words a thousand times but still couldn't get them out smoothly.
He remembered how her face had fallen when he cut her off with cold indifference.
A sour, swelling ache rose in his chest, a mixture of confusion and regret.
And then it hit him. All these year
