Oh, lover. How I long to see you. In a few days time I will arrive – empty suitcase back at the hotel – ready to ravage you.
See, Husbanks’ parents are taking us to San Francisco. We are staying near Union Square. I will walk to you.
You and I have been together all over the world. Austria with Megan. Boston with Ginny. San Francisco with Trisha. But we haven’t seen each other in a while. Husbanks wonders about your mystique. About your draw. He questions my passion. He doesn’t know why women long for you.
He wants to come with me to visit you.
He doesn’t understand. The initial sweep. The sensory-overloaded joy. Then, the focus. Forcing yourself to stay in one section at a time. The mental discipline of it all is mind-blowing. I don’t think he is going to like seeing me with you. His voice will be come a dull roar as my senses become overpowered while gathering, experiencing, then gathering again.
I don’t understand why you don’t come to Texas. That way, my time with you won’t need to be so intense. So indulgent.
But maybe we women like it that way.
I can’t wait to see you!
Until Friday, H&M. Until then.