'Tis said of love that it sometimes goes, sometimes flies; runs with one, walks gravely with another; turns a third into ice, and sets a fourth in a flame: it wounds one, another it kills: like lightning it begins and ends in the same moment: it makes that fort yield at night which it besieged but in the morning; for there is no force able to resist it.
--Miguel de Cervantes
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What is it about Kingsley? Only a few days have passed since Kingsley and I spent our first three days and nights together as a couple. Reflecting, my thoughts return to when we first met, my first same-sex experience with him, the silver anklet he gave me as a token of our mutual love, our numerous passionate love-makings. All seem this moment like a beguiling flight of fantasy, as if, perhaps, they never occurred. Did they? I wonder, and, if they did, where is Kingsley now? Why hasn't he called?
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