I left Zane lying in bed the next morning. We never said goodbye at airports or train stations. One of us always left the other in bed. That person was usually me.
I was the one often gallivanting around the globe. Zane was a homebody. He was happiest in his studio surrounded by his paints, canvases, and clay. He didn’t feel the need to go out and seek answers. Didn’t care to interact with the modern world or reminisce about past lives. He was content to paint and mold the world as he saw fit.
I envied him that. I was never satisfied with the status quo, and I always needed to dig deeper, ask more questions, uncover the hidden truth. And so I left him tangled in the sheets after a night of lovemaking so tender that I cried into his shoulder at my release.
He held on to me until the morn
