He watches me from across the room, with want, with need, desire, with love.
He looks at me with adoration, with hesitation, desperation, and guilt.
He tells me he loves me. He tells me he’s sorry. He assures me that everything will be okay and back to normal with time.
Only, I don’t know what normal is.
I don’t know who he is.
I don’t even know who I am.
Why is he watching me?
Why is he sorry?
Why can’t I remember?
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