*Dimos*
I can’t remember the last time I felt so alive, anticipating an encounter, a moment, a woman's nearness. Given the way my body tightens, she might as well be approaching completely naked. It's absolute madness the relief that washes over me when she doesn't immediately toss me out on my arse but accepts my apology.
More than that, she deciphers the reason for my upset the night before, which means she has been thinking about me at least some. Probably not as much as I think about her, but then I seem to be a man of obsessions, whether it's my father, my need to find the others responsible, or her. How is it, when is it, that she became an obsession?
"We are wrestling, I take it," she says, having joined me, standing only a couple of feet away. "Not boxing."
"You are welcome to
