I thought Marcus was going to be in my life forever. Then I thought I was wrong. Now heโs back. But this time I know whatโs certain: Marcus will be gone again, and back again and again and again because nothing is permanent. Especially people. Strangers become friends. Friends become lovers. Lovers become strangers. Strangers become friends once more, and over and over. Tomorrow, next week, fifty years from now, I know Iโll get another one-word postcard from Marcus, because this one doesnโt have a period signifying the end of the sentence. Or the end of anything at all.
Megan McCaffertyAnd now, as I'm lying alone in my own bed, I keep thinking about writhing against him last night, naked and vulnerable. Even after we'd both risen and fallen, peaked and plummeted, even after Marcus was physically shrinking from inside me, I couldn't stop clutching, crying, trying. Trying to pull him deeper, deeper, deeper within. Trying to make him more a part of me than I am myself.
Megan McCaffertyIt just makes me wonder what subject you blame for talking to me every night.' I'm still settling on an answer for that one. Probably Chemistry. Jesus Christ. I can't believe I just wrote that.
Megan McCafferty