As I lay in his bed unsure of my feelings and thoughts, I close my eyes and listen for the world outside of his room.

Through the half-open window the sound of the ocean, its tide, drifts and seeps into my ears. Closer, I listen puzzled at how in the middle of Boston I can hear the Atlantic. It was not the ocean though, but the wind.

 

And he held me, but I could not feel him.

He held me, but in vain. I did not want him. I did not need him.

I wanted the tide of the ocean to crash against my body and drag me away.

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