ZOE
The ride to her apartment was quiet. Deep down, Zoe was as hurt as I was. She had her own story too, and sharing that part of myself with her was liberating.
I wasn't sure if something had changed, but tonight my desire for her went beyond the physical. There was something deeper within me that made me want to be with her. It was a comfort, a security I had never experienced, suggesting this could be my place.
The tension between us developed its own rhythm. When I finally parked in front of the building, Zoe remained still. She sat there, hands on her knees, as if questioning something unseen.
"We're here," I said slowly.
"Yes," she replied, but her voice sounded more like a thought than a word.
There was a strange silence, the kind that forces you to decide whether to take anot
