“Injured, bleeding, with no luggage, you spontaneously flew cross-country. Here. To see me.”
He takes my face in his hands and gazes down at me, letting me see everything. All the need. All the longing. All the dark desire.
“That’s where people go when they need to feel better: home.”
“But your home is in New York.”
“Home can be a person, too. That’s what you are for me.”