But we, while we are intent upon one object,
already feel the pull of another.
Rilke, The Fourth Legacy
He glides a finger across your cheek, the bridge of your nose, your lower lip. He stares at you with complete concentration, a furrow forming between green eyes as he memorizes your face. His lips descend on your mouth, your throat, the exposed skin of your shoulder, and you can see his attention waver. As he unbuttons your shirt and eases it off you, you know you've already lost him.
You wonder who it is who has claimed his interest-man or woman, young or old-wonder if they will feel this emptiness when he finds his next true love.
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