The farmhouse is dark. Somewhere a night bird calls.

"I met someone," I say.

"Oh?" he says.

"I think...I think this might be last time that I...that we see each other."

He is silent, so I am too. Silent and still on the other side of the bed. I am naked. Sweat dries slowly in the small of my back. I count out the measures of the long moment.

"I want you to know, you're special to me," I say. "I think I even might love you." Everything feels wrong. The words fall off my lips plastic. I forgot not to say it first, but I'll be the last.

He is still, frozen. In the dark I don't think, but I see his face behind my eyelids, the funny expressions, his naked hips, my hand in his hair, his collarbone. My eyelashes are wet, brimming.

Eventually, in time, he will reach out and touch me on my shoulder. He'll pull me close and kiss my hair while sighing and the night bird will sleep at dawn.

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