I’d fallen in love with you. I knocked on your apartment door. Your roommate answered. She was barefoot and in shorts and her tits and nipples shown though the t-shirt that was too small for her. She smiled at me like she was laughing at me. She could see on my face that I couldn’t wait another second before I saw you. She probably also knew that you’d been in your room sulking and had no idea I’d come for you. The living room was empty. The t.v. was blank faced. The couches and carpet seemed as lonely as I felt, as lonely as your roommate, as lonely as you and everyone else in the world. She took me to your room and called out, “Your boyfriend is here!” The hollow door yanked open and I saw you there in your pajamas and ankle socks. I wanted to cry and take you into my arms. I wanted to drag away from there. I wanted to carry you away to some perfect place where we’d live happily ever after, but I did not do that. Instead, I walked into your room. It was kept neat and clean. You’d just got a new bed. Your dad helped you put it together. Now we crawled into it. It was cold outside. I put my arms around you and pulled you close. Your nose and mouth were cold too. That was the first time I’d told you that I love you. You told me that you’d been waiting for so long to hear me say it. We kissed and I brushed your hair from your face with my bare hand. And I had never loved anyone more than I loved you.