I saw her pictures. That girl he keeps assuring me is just a friend. The one he has to call for birthdays or random memories in the middle of the night, despite the fact that he's lying next to me. What could I say? He's known her years before he met me. But now this.
Her face, her body, her smile parading on the computer screen. Other people, too. But so many are of her. How many is too many pictures of an opposite sex friend? When does the molehill become a mountain?
This from the man who holds me tight, warms me from the cold, looks me deeply in my mind as if he's reading my soul. Does he talk to her during the witching hours of the night, allowing her voice to caress him like hands? Does he daydream about her while he's with me? Does he wish I was her?
Does my wondering so much mean I've already decided, and just don't know it?
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